Scourgify
by Pretend Fiction
Summary: The words be careful what you wish for had never rung truer. "Wait... what did she just call my father? Oh, oh god no, anyone but them! Please god no! I'd rather scourgify my own blood then have them for a family! I would take the Malfoys- no, even Voldemort over them! Anyone but...!" SI-OC. Pairings undecided. Not an SI you've read before, according to reviewers.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or spongebob

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**Chapter 1: Prologue**

Suppose you go out for a lovely stroll one day for a breath of fresh air. You cross the street, pondering the mediocrity of your everyday life, when _BAM! _

You get hit by a careless driver, dying instantly and painlessly.

This, of course, is not the end for you because that would make for only a random and mildly entertaining death, much like your own life. Which, in turn, would make for _such _a boring story.

Through some trick of fate, you are reborn as Harry Potter's twin sister in the Harry Potter universe with extraordinary magic, elemental powers, and genius intelligence. Given the chance to rewrite the story, you use said powers to turn the tide at every _single_ confrontation imaginable and win the affections of most everybody around you.

But that's not all! The ones who don't fawn over your every twitch hate you with the passion of a thousand burning suns. They do not appreciate your humble approach to the praise hurtled at you, and make _pathetic_ attempts to ruin your reputation. Does it work? Of _course_ not! They all fail and end up humiliated by your previously mentioned quick wit and aptitude in magic _and_ elemental powers. Through all this resentment and mortification, there is still a tiny part of them that _admires_ you. Oh, and they're all from that detestable House nobody likes.

What's this? You've managed to snag the most charming, handsome, powerful, _and _intelligent male in all of Hogwarts? He's wrapped around your little finger and loves you with, well, the passion of a thousand burning suns? You have hot, kinky sex with him nearly every day? Good on you, you foxy girl!

But wait one second, this is incredibly unrealistic! It's too perfect and you're a Mary-Sue!

Well, you're absolutely correct. No higher power in their right mind would bestow _this_ kind of luck on a mere mortal.

I _wish_ this was what happened to me. Instead of dying quickly and painlessly on my trivial walk, the last thing I remembered was a very big, very menacing Mack truck coming my way and a very blurry, very blue sky. It was actually quite a sunny and cheery day when I died in that slow and excruciating manner, courtesy of the broken bones and traumatic hemorrhaging.

After an undetermined amount of time, I found myself reborn in another world. Not a world I was obsessed with or had extensive background knowledge of, mind you. Out of all the fictional worlds I could have ended up in, it was the Harry Potter universe. Don't get me wrong, I love the Harry Potter series, it's just I would have preferred a more mild plot line, like say Twilight. The most I would have dealt with was a hundred year old pedophile obsessed with a seventeen year old girl, as opposed to a Dark Lord obsessed with blood purity and death.

This, unfortunately, was where the vague similarity ends. I was not reborn as Harry Potter's twin sister, nor did I get special super powers of awesomeness that let me beat the crap out of people I hated. I wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed either, but according to that case study some random psychologist did, watching Spongebob one too many times in my previous life may have caused the slight stupidity I was inflicted with!

I didn't get to hang off the arm of Witch Weekly's _Most Eligible Wizard, _or anyone like that. Actually, my peers didn't like me at all, and they certainly didn't trust me. Not that I blamed them. If I encountered someone from _my_ family, I'd be running for the hills and shooting hexes too. Sometimes, I still fight that urge myself whenever I see my relatives.

Now, I'm aware that in a lot of Harry Potter fan fictions, the people reborn into this world in families that they initially didn't like, end up becoming attached and love them down to their very core. This was not the case with me. When I realized where I was, or more accurately _who _I was, I screamed. For a good, _long_ five minutes. It was that appalling. I was mildly repulsed by the members in this family and their allies when I read the books, and after becoming a part of it, I was absolutely disgusted with them. There was one I did get attached to, but even that was tinged with disappointment and dislike. Because you see, my family was…

… Oh god, I can't even admit it. It's just that horrific. You'd have trouble too, if you were in my position. If you told me to count my blessings, I did have one thing going for me. At least I was reborn as a _girl _again.

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A/N: Thanks for reading!

Just wanted to clear up a few things, this story _is_ an SI fic but this character isn't anything like me nor was she based off me. Secondly, this fic is meant to be a humorous one, and not overly serious. It will get a bit more intense in the later parts of the story, but it will retain it's comedic element. Thirdly, this story will also have romance, but the pairings aren't decided yet so don't hound me with questions. Suggestions are welcome though. I don't have a beta yet, so if anyone is interested, just shoot me a PM.

Finally, I know this is only a short prologue but I won't continue with the story if no one shows any interest. This isn't a threat for reviews (though I do enjoy people's opinions), it's just that I don't want to spend my time writing a story that nobody reads, so even one favorite or a follow will do and I'll keep writing. So far, I have the next two chapters written. Look forward to it.

-Fiction


	2. Scourgify

A/N: Apologies for the horribly late update. Life happened and my hard drive died, along with the chapters I had written up *sobs*. Good news is, everything is all fixed and I have the entire story mapped out. Yay! Hope you enjoy the chapter, it's over four times longer than the prologue.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Warning: There is very very mild language (as far as I'm concerned), and my third POV writing is kind of rusty. I'm used to first person, but third POV is necessary for this story.

No Beta

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**Chapter 2: Scourgify**

The only man in the room flinched at the shrill sound of a baby's cry, shattering the imaginary world he had created for himself to escape from reality. He found himself doing that a lot lately, and wondered briefly if he was slowly driving himself mad. It certainly wasn't healthy for one's psyche to constantly pine for a better life he had undoubtedly lost. In his dream world, he was free to do whatever he pleased, with his sibling and mates by his side. He wasn't shackled to a duty he hadn't really understood when he dedicated himself to it, he certainly didn't have a wife, and she _most definitely_ wasn't giving birth to their first born child. Or rather, just gave birth to it.

_'Oh Merlin, it looks exactly like its mother.'_

It was rather quiet for a newborn, only having given one scream before immediately quieting down. The nurse had finished wiping away the repulsive fluids that clung to it and quickly shoved it into the weak arms of its mother. She smiled weakly at it and cooed, caressing its soft cheek. He grimaced and looked away, escaping once again into his mind. It was simply too much to take in.

If someone had asked him where he would be in five years, he would, beyond a sliver of a doubt, say it wasn't here. If they told him he'd be in the middle of such a farce, he would have laughed at them before hexing them into oblivion.

A _son_. He didn't want children, at least not yet, and certainly not here, not now, not with _that_ woman. Maybe he could pretend it was a nephew, or a guest in the house. _'Or a troll,' _he mused. It certainly looked like one.

A harsh gasp broke his thoughts and he looked again with exasperation plainly written on his features, before they shifted quickly into confusion. The woman had shifted the baby in her arms and appeared to be bracing herself for something while the nurse was swiftly moving and murmuring that they were almost done. It almost looked she was preparing to give birth... _again_. It couldn't be. He was fairly certain he would have noticed if the mediwitches had diagnosed his... wife with another baby.

Apparently not, he realized with dawning horror while cursing his inattentiveness. The nurse was making encouraging noises and preparing to catch what he desperately wished was a quaffle at the foot of the bed, while the woman made grunting noises and pushed. _'Please Merlin, let it be a quaffle she's birthing...'_

Alas, his desperate pleas did not magically change the laws of nature, and out popped another shrieking baby. Only in this case it did not seem to want to calm down, and continued screaming at ear-damaging levels.

_'Spectacular,' _he thought dazedly as the nurse thrust the crying baby in his arms. _'Twins. That is simply __**spectacular**__.'_

"Quiet down, lovely, you're meeting your father," the nursemaid said in a strained voice. Surprisingly enough, that seemed to quiet it down.

He blinked down in shock at the equally astonished baby. Familiar eyes blinked back up at him and he recoiled with a wince, an unflattering noise escaping his throat. He thought he saw hurt in her eyes for a second before they flattened out in a very unamused expression. He almost laughed at such an absurd look on a newborn. There was no way it could have connected his reaction with the appropriate emotion. It simply didn't have the mental faculties to recognize that.

"The baby," he almost dropped the baby at the weak voice. "I want to see..."

Obligingly, he none-too-carefully pushed the baby into her mother's arms while she shifted the other baby to make room. He realized belatedly that he didn't catch the older twin's name, then shrugged and retreated back into his corner, watching the once again surprised baby.

"Valeria," she rasped, her face twisting into a mockery of a smile while his froze. "You're name is Valeria."

The man's expression was a mix of horror and shock at the eerily familiar name while he watched mother connect with daughter. He felt the sudden need to apparate far, far away from this heart-warming scene. The woman continued cooing at her daughter.

"Valeria, my sweet daughter..."

Watching with detached interest, he felt a spark of amusement as the baby's face seemed to parrot his own, first freezing, then morphing into shock and horror. A heartbeat passed before her loudest scream yet erupted from her tiny throat, breaking supersonic levels. He covered his ears with his hands and the nurse quickly fled the room in the wake of such a painful scream.

This time the man did laugh.

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It was with great determination that the newborn girl attempted to dodge the flying punch from a weak fist. Unfortunately, Valeria's little body didn't allow her to achieve such a task and only managed a weak wobble in the other direction. She would have been completely understanding of the other baby's need to move its feeble little limbs, had she not been forced to share a crib with him.

The baby girl briefly considered hitting back, but quickly dismissed that. It seemed a little cruel to her to hit another baby, even if the little bugger was a piece of work. Besides, he gave her something to do in the hours of boredom that came with lying in a crib. When she wasn't frantically attempting to roll away from him, she was silently cursing the cosmos for landing her here.

She glared morosely at the constellation screen above her. It was beautiful and changed every few hours, but it seemed a little excessive for the parents to hang a damn TV over the crib, not to mention hazardous. What if the screws were loose and it toppled over her and her...brother. She'd much rather have them play the news so she could have some idea of where she was.

Valeria reflected on the situation she found herself in. If she had to make a guess with the evidence given to her, she would have to say she was reincarnated. It was the final explanation she had come to after so many months of this new reality. Whether it was a glitch in the system, or simply her fantastically bad luck, she could recall most of her past life. Especially the Mack truck. It was, after all, very hard to forget one's own traumatic and bloody death.

Valeria's past life hadn't been extravagant. Granted, it wasn't the dullest life one could have. She had two parents, four sisters, and a dog. Her parents weren't the nicest ones around, but they weren't the meanest. They were simply distant.

Not that they didn't love their children, but it certainly felt that way to the sisters growing up. As a result, they looked to each other for support and comfort, and when they fought with each other, they sought out the dog's unconditional love. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for her sisters and vice versa, and it absolutely boggled her mind whenever other siblings hated each other. She was firm in her belief that siblings were always there for each other, through thick and thin, they always came first. Blood over water, and whatnot.

So, when the comforting walls she had found herself in began to contract and Valeria was dreadfully and disgustingly pushed out into the world, she had hoped to find a family she could depend on. Old or new.

It was hard to ignore the obvious signs of a dysfunctional family, especially when, Valeria noted with a dark humor at her own expense, it was very similar to her first family.

It became increasingly clear to her, however, that this new family was even stranger. It couldn't have been more obvious that her... father wanted absolutely nothing to do with his children. What she did see of him appeared to be painful 'bonding' sessions mandated by his wife at what she guessed to be about once a week. Her... mother was his extreme opposite. She smothered them with attention so much, it was suffocating and almost off-putting after a while, although Valeria was a little biased. How many nineteen year-olds would really be able to enjoy such blatant intrusion of their personal space? _'The breastfeeding was bad enough,' _Valeria thought, feeling a little green.

In the first few months following her second birth, her eyes were too weak to make out much of their appearances. Her mother's face had been thick, mismatched and lopsided blurs, while her father's was a blur of delicate shapes. As her eyesight sharpened and her locomotive functions became less restrictive, she began to take note of the oddity that her parents were even a couple. They were extreme opposites in everything Valeria could think of, her mother simple and brazen and her father snarky and reserved. They always went about their days in what Valeria guessed to be companionable silence, and when they did speak to each other it was always in disagreement. Her mother was content and her father stressed. Their affections towards their children was decidedly different, and their aesthetic appearances were like night and day. There really is no kinder way to put it: her mother was hideous and her father was handsome.

Her mother's face was very thick, had no neck and had stringy black hair. Her dark eyes- which were very much like her brother's and Valeria was anticipating she had as well- were deep set into her face with slightly sallow skin and a nose squished lopsidedly into her face. Her smiles curled up into something sinister, but Valeria dismissed that as an unfortunate happenstance. They probably just appeared that way due to her unfortunate genetics.

In contrast, her father's features were aristocratic, pale, and smooth with a straight nose. He had messy black hair and a brooding face, with the most morose and striking grey eyes Valeria had ever seen. He never smiled, so Valeria made it a point to never smile at him.

_'They are the kind of couple you can't help wondering how their children would turn out,'_ Valeria thought dryly. _'And I suppose I get to find out.'_

Theirs seem like quite the love story. It was a little heart-warming and nice to see one could find love pretty much in anyone, even ones who's personalities clashed like oil and fire. Love knows no bounds had never rung truer, and Valeria was looking forward a little to asking her mother how they met.

_'Or maybe it's the whole opposites attract thing,' _Valeria mulled. _'Goodness knows __**I **__have next to no experience when it comes romance and all things gushy.'_

After getting to know her family after a while, she had quickly decided she was fond of her brother- Vinnie as their mother called him- and her mother despite the two constantly encroaching on her personal space. Vinnie was a baby after all, and she was simply a doting mother.

After only her first meeting with her father, she instantly labelled him an insufferable and immature jerk. The argument he had with his wife at the time went something along the lines of: "But I don't want to touch them," and, "But they're your babies!"

She had never, not once in her past life met any father, or adult for that matter, unwilling to grow and own up to their responsibilities and act their role.

_'What an assbutt,' _Valeria thought vehemently and eloquently. She took a sick pleasure in staring soulfully and mournfully into his eyes when he had picked her up. It made him fidget uncomfortably, maybe even a little guiltily.

Unfortunately, all that seemed to be the most normal thing about her family.

The twins' caretaker was heaps weird. After mind-numbing months of being in her crib, she still couldn't tell which gender it was. It was bafflingly short with batty ears and enormous eyes. It always suddenly appeared in their nursery with a mysterious crack, and hopped up on the rails of their crib- which freaked Valeria out the first couple of times- to get a good look and snapped its fingers at them. She still couldn't figure out what the snapping was for, but it seemed to get the job done of changing their diapers and cleaning them. One day she was going to catch how it managed to accomplish this without ever laying a hand on them.

It's behaviour was also stunningly bizarre. She discovered it was quite the masochist when it started to violently bash it's head in after realizing it forgot to carry out one of its mistress's orders, scaring the living daylights out of both her and her brother. Which, of course, drove it to punish itself again for frightening the 'little babies'.

It yammered in third person, which was confusing at first because Valeria thought it was trying to tell her what another person's thoughts and chores for the day were and couldn't understand why that would have anything to do with her. It said things like, "Binky must make sure today's dinner for the houseguests is perfect, or mistress will be angry," or, "Binky has to take the best care of the little babies, or mistress will throw Binky to the Dark Lord." Now that Valeria was thinking on it, that last comment was stupendously disturbing. She shuddered.

Her parents also seemed to be a little unhinged. At first when her mother mentioned the importance of blood purity in her vicinity, her father grumbling in the background, Valeria hesitantly agreed that, yes, it was very important that her blood was free of artificial hormones, preservatives, and whatnot. The most crucial part of life is one's health after all. Then they started to delve into crazy talk, like magic and elves and witches and wizards and the like, as if it was the most natural and common thing to talk about, and Valeria hesitantly began to consider the possibility that her parents were, in fact, insane.

Her mother seemed to have a penchant for gore. She would often regale them with stories of her curses and fierce battles against the wretches of the world, which is admittedly very strange to be telling her infant children. She even once bemoaned a failed curse that was supposed to have a mudblood- whatever that was- bleeding from all her orifices, which left Valeria gagging a little. Her mother had strange tastes in video games and perhaps had the delusional tendency of thinking they were real. If Valeria was going to be a little honest, she was a little resentful that her mother hadn't brought her and Vinnie to play with her. She hadn't touched a video game in ages after all.

The words _be careful what you wished for _came into a play a little over a year after their birth.

By that time, both infants graduated from crawling to walking and uttered their first words. Vinnie's first word was 'papa'. Seconds later, Valeria took the opportunity to say the word 'go', which was quickly followed by 'away'. Ten points to whoever guesses the person she was talking to.

It was late in the night when a loud bang woke up Vinnie who, in a fit of annoyance, slammed his fist into Valeria's face and woke _her_ up. There wasn't much lighting, but she instantly recognized the voices.

"…Move now!" That was Mother. "Binky? _Binky! Get in here you damn house-elf!"_

A mutter of _lumos_ filled the room with light, and an irritated growl followed her voice, "No need for that! We're staying right here."

"No _need?!_ You fool, _we have no choice!_" Mother bellowed at the baby-hater, Valeria's favorite substitute name for Father. Her ears perked up and she wrapped her meaty fists around the bars of her crib to lift herself up and peer at the couple, a light emanating from an incredibly skinny flashlight in the baby-hater's hand. This was new, most definitely different from the inane chatter she constantly heard.

"Of course we have a choice. We lie, simple as that."

"Lie? _Lie?! _What you're suggesting is traitorous, _blasphemy!_ The Imperius Curse? I will not have our names sullied!" She screamed at him and shoved her face in his. "_He_ will come back, and _he_ will know we always stayed true to him."

There was a large crack and Valeria's huge eyes widened in surprise as the masochistic caretaker _materialized right in the middle of the freaking room!_ She sat back on her little bottom and took the scene in, not hearing much of what they were shouting about as the little elf hastily packed suitcases of baby clothes and knickknacks.

That was... impossible. People, humans, didn't just pop out of nowhere. The laws of physics and nature did not allow for that. But was Binky the Masochist really human, Valeria realized with a dawning revelation, didn't Mother just call it a _house-elf? _

Valeria's mind whirled as she remembered clues she was too dense to piece together. Mysterious short caretaker that did mysterious things and was an actual house-elf, check. Known spells and curses like _lumos_ and the Imperius Curse, check. Obsessions with blood purity, check. Known terminology like- and Valeria winced when she thought this- mudblood and Dark Lord, check. And... her face tensed from a shocked expression to one that was very unamused and _very irritated _as she tilted her head to look up into the ever changing screen of the TV that hung over her crib.

Valeria almost wanted to slap herself for being so stupid. What kind of idiots wasted a perfectly good flat screen TV by hanging it on a _damn ceiling!_ No one, that's who! The _goddamn ceiling_ was _enchanted!_

Harry Potter.

She was in the _bloody_ _Harry Potter series!_ Valeria wanted to throw something. She wasted a whole year in blissful ignorance of a _magical _world!

"So that's it then? You're suggesting we live the rest of our lives on the run for a dead man?" Baby-hater's voice snapped her attention back to her parents and she looked at them in a new light. Who were they talking about? _Who were her parents?_

"_He _is not dead, and _he_ is the greatest wizard who ever lived!"

"Was, Victoria, he _was _the greatest wizard that ever lived, _and he's not coming back!_"

There was a choked gasp, then a sob. "Valere Crabbe, don't you dare say that again. The Dark Lord will rise again-" Her words were cut off by several more watery sobs, but Valeria stopped listening to their argument again.

_'Wait…what did she just call my father?'_

There were several things about her words that should've raised red flags in Valeria's mind, but she could only focus on one thing. She didn't care that her parents were most likely racist Death Eaters. She didn't give a rat's ass that Mother was threatening to raise them on the run. She couldn't even care less that she seemed to have a one-sided love affair with bloody Voldemort! No, the one thing Valeria zeroed in on was that one little _name _she called the baby-hater...

_'Oh, oh god no, anyone but them! Please god no! I'd rather scourgify my own blood then have them for a family! I would take the Malfoys- no, even Voldemort over them! At least they weren't notorious for their stupidity!'_ Valeria's blood roared in her ears and she was shocked into a frozen state, until Vinnie started to cry. Oh, _Vinnie…_

The sudden, striking realization of who she was sharing a crib with made her finally snap from the shock and too many realizations. One of the two insufferable characters that literally no one liked or cared about, especially her, was _in her crib! _Valeria pushed away from the toddler and screamed, screamed loud enough to stop the argument the two adults were having.

_'How could I have been so naïve, so clueless! I should have instantly made the connection between the nickname Vinnie and __**Vincent Crabbe**__!'_

Seconds later, a pair of hands snatched Valeria up and she was staring into striking grey eyes. In a moment of hysteria, Valeria had the sudden urge to blame Valere Crabbe for not being Sirius Black. He most definitely could have passed as him, with the aristocratic features, grey eyes, and black hair. Sirius would've been a cool father to have.

Instead, he was glaring straight into her own eyes and commanded in a very loud voice, "Valeria Irma Crabbe, stop your unbearable screaming! You're a pure-blooded lady, the youngest of the Crabbe family line, and it's high time you start learning how to act like it!"

So Valeria, of course, screamed, screamed louder and harder than she ever had, past life included.

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A/N: And so,Valeria's new and slightly traumatizing life with the Crabbe's begins. I know, it could be worse. Could be Umbridge or Filch. Or both. *shivers* If you haven't noticed already, Valeria is stupidly naive about a lot of things.

How many of you thought her dad was some twisted AU version of Sirius or Regulus Black? I'm betting you're mad, it _was_ an incredibly dickish move to pull. If you did think it was one of them though, I promise that's the meanest thing I'll do to you.

And finally, thank you so much to the people who reviewed, favorited, and followed _Scourgify_. You've inspired me to keep writing and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Look forward to the rest!

Though I am curious. How many of you expected it to be the Crabbes? Or some other family? I did put quite a few red herrings in there.

-Fiction


	3. The Crustaceans vs Literacy

A/N: Sorry for the late-ish/short-ish update. You wouldn't believe how awkward it would be to hold a conversation with one of these characters. It made my damn dialogue itself awkward! So frustrating!

I've decided to give the Crabbes the code name 'The Crustaceans', just in case new readers decided to look through the chapter titles before they read the actual fanfic. I do that sometimes, even though they occasionally spoil something for me.

Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter, not me.

No Beta

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(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

(This is a crab, by the way!)

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Chapter 3: The Crustaceans vs. Literacy

Valeria stared blankly at her father as he read the Daily Prophet, wondering why she was even bothering to hide her exasperation.

She had spent the entirety of breakfast attempting to catch his attention and was unsuccessful. By now, both her mother and brother had left the table, his untouched food was most definitely cold, and Valeria's patience was worn to threads. Not for the first time she entertained the idea that he might be illiterate, if the fact that he was still reading the front page was anything to go by.

Or maybe not.

Valeria had difficulties pegging her father's intelligence over the last few years. He had, after all, a very 'hands-off' approach towards rearing his children and thus she didn't see much of him.

Not that she could blame the man. Vinnie was a very scary child to handle; his violence was severely enhanced with his stupidity and it made for a spectacularly out of control weapon. As for Valeria, after that highly traumatizing night filled with revelations and sparks triggered by her accidental magic, she had taken to gazing at him with either a look of incredulous disgust or accusatory hatred.

She hated bigots, and if Death Eaters were anything, they were _massive_ bigots.

In any case, both the weaponized child, and the scornful and heavy looks had greatly disturbed the man, and he seemed to retreat further into his shell. He would flee the room every time they encountered each other the first chance he got. Cowardly, in her honest opinion. What kind of a man was so easily cowed by a toddler's stare?

Perhaps that was why he was spacing out and staring so intently at the paper; unnerved by her unwavering stare and waiting for her to leave so he could avoid dealing with her. Which was simply ridiculous; she already made every possible effort to avoid talking to him and making any sort of contact, so one little aberration from the norm couldn't possibly kill him. Valeria's eye twitched and she tried one more time to garner his attention politely.

"Father? Pardon me, Father?"

...

Silence ensued and the man continued to 'read' his newspaper. Valeria's face morphed quickly into a frustrated glare before shifting into a devious smile, her eyes sparkling with glee. _'Since the man is so absorbed in the pretty words prettily arranged on that paper, surely he wouldn't hear what I say next?'_

"Hey, baby-hater, is your brain addled or something?" She snapped in a scathing tone unnatural to a toddler.

And suddenly Valere was looking up from his newspaper in shock and whipping his head around as if looking for a ghost, scaring the bejeezus out of his daughter and making her jump in her little chair (she hadn't been expecting such a sudden and strong reaction). He quickly regained his senses and blinked down at her in bewilderment.

"What did you just say?"

Valeria slapped her palm to her face to hide her smirk and pointed innocently at the newspaper, side-stepping his question with another, "Can I see that?"

"The Daily Prophet?" He asked in return, baffled, and Valeria resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Yeah."

"This paper?"

"Yeah."

"The one I'm reading right now?"

"Yeah."

"You're interested in this? A paper that doesn't even explode, make loud noises, or sparkle?"

Valeria simply raised an eyebrow at the star-struck man as if to say, is that such a surprise?

"Well, I don't see why not," he acquiesced gruffly after a moment and quickly added before handing over the newspaper to the four-year-old. "And 'yeah' is not proper vocabulary to be used by a Crabbe lady. Respond with 'yes', or... something."

He trailed off eloquently and this time Valeria did roll her eyes at the man as she snatched at the paper. Even after four years of being a father he still wasn't used to handling children. He fully expected her to make the best out of 'or something'. Not that she couldn't, she knew perfectly well what he meant seeing as she was an adult in a four-year-old's body. He didn't know that though, so it gave Valeria another reason to silently mock the man.

She liked to do that a lot. Mock the man. It was her favourite past time, in fact, and lately she'd been getting away with voicing her thoughts out loud if she was smart about it. Valeria grinned to herself, and shook her head to dispel her thoughts.

_'More important things to deal with now. Mother doesn't read the Daily Prophet, it took me so long to get my hands on one!'_

With the paper finally in her tiny hands and alone at last, Valeria skimmed the front page and raised her brow at it.

MEMORIAL BUILT IN OSTHAVEN IN HONOUR OF LOST SOULS

_Before that fateful day three years ago, the town of Osthaven was victim to a brutal and damaging battle between hated Death Eaters and honoured Aurors. Over thirty good witches and wizards lost their lives in that fight against You-Know-Who's forces, and there were over fifty muggle casualties._

_The Battle of Osthaven was dark and turbulent; according to one of its survivors, 'I can still remember the screams and flashes of red and green. Muggles screaming, children crying, families torn apart. I even found a baby shoved into a trashcan, some poor muggle family's last attempt to protect their child. I lost my brother in that fight and sometimes it still keeps me up at night, wondering if I hadn't apparated away with it, he would still be alive. Now I'm wondering if I'd even still be here."_

_It is a dark stain among many on wizarding history. The cruelty inflicted on the muggles by these Death Eaters drove even more insane, and some wizarding folk speculate that it was the most drastic..._

Valeria scoffed at the article as she opened the newspaper up and continued reading. It was no wonder the man was so fixated on this story. He was probably reliving the glory of being a Death Eater and all the pain he inflicted on poor unsuspecting muggles. _'Not just muggles,' _Valeria thought to herself sourly. _'They were people like me, like my old family. Non-magic folk. That could've been __**my **__family they were torturing.'_

Granted, her old family didn't even live in Europe, and she was pretty sure her parents would have been young teenagers during the eighties and most likely hadn't even met yet. Not to mention the fact that they didn't even live in this world. But... it still rankled Valeria to see people like the ones she lost in death, so horrifically tortured and-

"You can actually read that?" Came the mystified voice of Valeria's new father. It snapped her out of her depressing train of thought and she levelled him with another incredulous, albeit confused, stare. _'I thought he would've left by now.'_

On the contrary, he was leaning across the table and gazing at her with the most confounded expression she had ever seen. Was this so hard to believe? She probably should have waited another year before 'publically' reading for it to be considered normal, but Valeria hadn't expected the man to actually watch her, let alone _stay_. Maybe she could play it off as normal that a four-year-old can read and comprehend news articles, and hope the man accepts it...

"Or... something," Valeria replied with a little twitch to her lips and continued in her best angelic toddler voice. "Can't _you_?"

The man paused and narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, suddenly more serious and mature than she'd ever given him credit for. Maybe he was more intelligent than Valeria initially thought because he ignored her question and asked, "And who taught you how to do that?"

"Mother did," Valeria lied smoothly, nonchalantly flipping another page. She was unwilling to throw Binky under the bus, even though that would have been more believable.

Valere reeled back in shock as if his daughter had grown horns and claws, all seriousness forgotten, and yelled, "She can _**read**__?! _Read things_ that _complicated_?!"_

He sounded so scandalized, Valeria had to take a moment to wonder at her own mother's intelligence as well.

"Yes, of course she can." _I think_.

The poor man was flabbergasted, sputtering incoherent words and accidentally knocking over his plate, sending it crashing to the floor.

"You- but she- how..?!"

He stopped, stared at her for a few more moments and almost shouted at her in his confusion, "But she's so _stupid!"_

Valeria could only stare at him blankly in answer and after some minutes of looking into his manic eyes, he shoved away from the table and stormed out of the room. She shook her head in confusion.

"Well... that has got to be the longest and awkwardest father-daughter conversation in the history of our relationship," she muttered to herself, shrugged, and flipped to another page in the newspaper.

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_'Maybe that wasn't such a good idea...'_

Valeria was sweating bullets. She let herself get carried away.

After finishing the newspaper (which didn't have a lick of useful information) and apologizing to Binky for the shattered plate and wasted food, it had suddenly hit Valeria how dangerous that conversation was.

_'I'm screwed. Royally screwed. I might as well iron out my face and join a travelling circus.'_

Her father has figured out her secret, she was sure of it.

She had suspected that he was suspicious of her behaviour. Anyone with average intelligence would be able to notice something was off with that conversation (how many literate, snarky and sarcastic toddlers do you see running around?), and she had only just realized that he might _actually have __**average intelligence**__! _

A Crabbe. That is correct, a _**Crabbe**_, with average intelligence!

It was mind-numbing.

It made Valeria's head _hurt_.

She let her guard down. She was so used to her mother missing the signs of her abnormal maturity without batting an eyelash. Even when she did catch them, it was something along the lines of, "Oh! _My _Valeria is so smart! She's a prodigy that one! Who's a good girl?" With a pat on the head as if she were a dog. Demeaning, but at least she was safe from scrutiny. But her father...

_'That shit head was so absent from my life it took me this long to realize he would find my __not really __mature behaviour suspicious!'_

And he was onto her. _Oh Lord, _he was onto her!

How was Valeria so sure? Through critical thinking, analysis of their previous conversation and interactions, and a slight touch of paranoia, she had narrowed down all the questions to ask and research he could do to uncover her secret. It took a superior intelligence to be able to surmise that certainty by oneself in a matter of seconds.

Mostly she just happened to pass by his office and overheard him muttering to himself and the word, "-reincarnation-".

Really, _Vinnie_ could have come to the same conclusion as Valeria.

Anyhow, Valeria had frozen up, shivered, and continued toddling woodenly down the main hall of their small mansion, little heart beating erratically. She was still wandering around in fact. Where was that iron? There were facial features that needed smoothing out.

He had probably gone ahead and asked her mother if she had indeed taught Valeria how to read. The whole thing was suspicious to begin with, even if they accounted for supposed genius. Valeria had never seen her mother read anything longer than three sentences. Which was probably impressive for a Crabbe, when one thought about it, but not enough to teach a damn _toddler _how to read at that level.

At any rate, there was no possible way she could have taught Valeria how to read. Her father wasn't at all unjustified in his surprise at the claim of 'Yes, _of course_ Victoria Crabbe can _read_'.

It was too much to hope that Victoria Crabbe would convince and flatter herself into thinking she _had _inadvertently taught her four-year-old daughter how to read. Valeria's fate was sealed as soon as her father had asked her mother. The truth would have been revealed-

"Yes, Vinnie, it's true! Muggles do have tails. Like a dog's- no a rat's! And they smell like death because they rot without magic. I've seen 'em myself, and smelled 'em too! I mean them! Them. I've seen _them_. I swear on the Dark Lord! ...No, Vinnie, don't say ''em'. Say 'them', that's not proper talk. _Mudbloods _and _blood traitors_ talk like that. Mummy was just trying to keep you on your toes."

Ah, yes.

Valeria had completely forgotten her mother was a pathological liar.

This was excellent.

There was no_ way_ her father could trust her mother's word.

Valeria was momentarily stricken by the fact that she was actually _thankful _her family was filled with a bunch of idiotic nut-jobs.

She stopped in front of Vinnie's and her playroom in relieved wonder, where her mother was teaching her older twin brother very important life lessons.

"Now, Vinnie, you can always tell a muggle apart from magic folk by one simple thing! They are not in control of their bodily functions and constantly allow their mouths to flop open and _drool_ like animals. Because they _are_ animals! Wild beasts!"

Very important life lessons, indeed. Valeria's eyes narrowed at the saliva dripping from her brother's own open mouth. She felt strangely indignant for the animals of the world. They were definitely more regal and dignified than _that_.

While her mother continued to indoctrinate her brother with her crazy racism, Valeria retreated back into her previous train of thought. Perhaps that's what her father was.

Crazy.

Only someone completely mad could jump to that conclusion after all.

That would certainly be another factor that brought her parents together as a couple, the other one being that they were both pure evil and racist assholes. Nothing can bring two minds together quite like a common ideology. After previously coming to that conclusion, she had refrained from asking her mother about their love story. She knew the woman wouldn't censor the carnage and death they might have doled out.

Even if they _had _had a peaceful courtship, she doubted her mother wouldn't embellish the details and add a bit of blood and gore. Psychopathic, pathological liars tended to do that.

Valeria wondered if anything her mother told to her was true at all.

"Valeria."

The young adult stuck in a toddler's body looked at her mother glumly. She beamed back.

"In a few days, you and Vinnie will be leaving the house to meet a new friend," she giggled. "Look forward to it darling, I want you on your best behaviour."

The little girl's ears perked up, expertly ignoring the strange wink her mother shot her.

A new friend? The only people she had ever come in contact with was her family, Binky, and the nurse from forever ago. She was beginning to think her parents had no friends. Maybe she was wrong.

Valeria let her lips twitch into a rare smile. Even meeting a toddler was oddly exciting nowadays. Now if only she could remember what kind of friends her parents would have had in the books...

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A/N: Oh, I wonder who it could be?

It is a bit of a jump straight into the important events of our (not really a) heroine's childhood. Probably seems random too. But honestly, if I wrote filler chapters, I wouldn't be able control myself and spam your poor eyes with them. Unless you guys want that, or... something.

In case anyone's wondering, Osthaven is not a real place, as far as I'm aware. I figured it was okay to make up a place since JKR made up Cokeworth. Every time I re-read the words 'battle of Osthaven', I couldn't help but think of the Battle of Ostagar. I play too many video games.

**HEY HEY HEY!**

Remember last chapter when I promised I wouldn't do another mean thing to you guys? Well, forget that promise. In fact, just ignore any promises I make to you in the future.

Assume I am a filthy liar like Victoria Crabbe. Seriously. It would be horrible if I promised to update on a certain day and failed to keep it or... something.

All that aside... Thank your for the favorites and follows! I didn't expect the follower count to go up to 20 after one update, seriously, thanks guys. Really made my week.

Remember to review please! Reviews are like a fanfic writer's sustenance, our bread and water. Feed a hungry writer. I'll try my best to respond to them.

-Fiction


	4. Betrayal, Dark Objects, Apes, and Smeago

A/N: Sorry for the late update. This is the longest chapter yet though, so hopefully that makes up for it!

I got a guest review!

RandomLurker: Thank you so much! It's always nice to hear positive feedback for a story. It is true though, I find that there are more self-inserts floating around in various fandoms and unfortunately not all them are that great. I'm such a big fan of the well-written ones though(I'm writing one after all. Probably not well-written, but at least decent). I find they add a new depth to the story and it's always fun to see how a stranger affects the story line. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this latest chapter X)

Disclaimer. JKR owns Harry Potter, I only own Valeria. Oh, and I also don't own Lord of the Rings or Smeagol.

No Beta

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**Chapter 4: Betrayal, Dark Objects, Apes, and Smeagol**

Valeria ran as fast as her little legs could carry her through the unfamiliar halls, passing by numerous paintings and expensive trinkets on display and silently cursing her parents and the brats to high heaven.

_'New friends, my ass,' _Valeria's mind practically growled when she almost tripped over her own legs. _'New monsters more like.'_

She skittered and ducked into a narrow passage, wheezing and resting her small hand on a hung tapestry to catch her breath, only to fall inside a little hidey-hole.

_'Well, I suppose this works too,' _she picked herself up and coughed out the dust cloud that insisted on pervading her lungs. Valeria breathed deeply through her nose and out through her mouth despite this, in an attempt to steady her breathing and calm down her furious mind. It only half worked.

She felt a zing in her core that she now recognized as magic ignite, red sparks popping around in her the small space, and lighting the contours of her toddler face with an unearthly red glow. Accidental magic always occurred when she was beyond livid.

"Those flaming bags of shit," she snarled and hissed out loud to the back of the tapestry, her accent from her previous life rearing its head. "I oughta haul their worthless asses to Canada and throw them off the top of the CN tower. Or feed them to our national geese. God knows those things are vicious."

The tapestry did not respond, but Valeria wasn't expecting it to. She was too busy fuming, muttering, and ruminating on the events that lead her here.

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The day after her unfortunate slip up with her father, Valeria had woken up to an unusually excited mother. She was never a morning person, past life included, but the little girl couldn't help feeling amused at the woman's enthusiasm. It was like watching an ugly puppy meet a new friend for the first time, which was a little backwards considering it was Valeria and her brother who were meeting another child today.

Breakfast was the same as yesterday; Vinnie was quiet, her mother yammered about things no one really cared about, and her father fired strangely pointed questions at Valeria that had her repeatedly questioning his sanity.

"Do you have a constant craving for fruit, particularly apples?"

"Not really, no."

"Do you like to sing mudbl- muggle music?" This elicited a small gasp from his wife.

"They have music too?"

"Of course. How do you feel about the Japanese?"

"The what?" Valeria feigned ignorance again. Truthfully, she loved Japanese cuisine and was quite fond of the sparse cartoons- anime, or whatever they call them- that had aired on television when she was first a child.

One of Valere's tired eyes twitched at her blatant lack of knowledge. He uselessly informed her of the various cultures and ethnicities that existed outside the Crabbe household before flinging more questions for the rest of the morning, even lurking behind Valeria, Vinnie, and her mother as they walked back to their rooms to get ready.

It was obvious that Victoria Crabbe was quite pleased with her husband's newfound interest in their daughter, sneaking glances at them while she practically vibrated with energy. Vinnie was quiet as per usual. Valeria, on the other hand, found the sudden personality change downright off-putting and a little disturbing. She suspected a psychotic break. After all, the man had been muttering to himself about _reincarnations, _a sudden conclusion that deserved a trip to the nearest knew reincarnation was possible, being subject to it herself, but he obviously didn't know that, nor was she about to tell him. In the end, she resorted to sticking close to her twin as if he were an impenetrable shield, thankful he wasn't particularly twitchy or punch-happy today.

Her mother dressed her in her best casual dress, baby blue satin complete with shiny shoes and an abundance of frills that made her feel like a fancy Alice from _Alice in Wonderland_. Her hair was brushed a million times over for shine before her mother rushed out to help Vinnie.

Valeria picked at the fabric of her outfit, appreciating the nice material. It seemed a little old-fashioned to her, but that was probably because she was still used to the twenty-first century's style. At least the skirts were wide and ended just above the knees, thus providing a free range of movement.

Pressing her ear to her door and hearing nothing out of sorts, the child-shaped young adult quickly peeked under her bed to scan her forbidden pile of shorts and pants she had stolen from her brother. She selected a pair of short shorts and swiftly pulled them on under her dress, the skirts hiding any evidence of the 'unladylike' garment. She kicked her legs around, satisfied that the movements went unhindered.

It helped that Valeria was friends with Binky. She agreed not to out her secret whenever she cleaned under the bed. The house-elf even laundered her stash for her.

Victoria Crabbe was so clueless sometimes.

Feeling mighty pleased with herself, Valeria stepped out of her room and was surprised to see her father waiting outside the doors, staring blankly at a painting across from her room. It was a rather striking portrait of a beautiful woman. She wondered idly if her father liked to look at beautiful women in the streets.

_'He could just look in a mirror for that,' _Valeria snickered to herself. Another thing she liked mocking her father for was his effeminate features. Her mind wandered to an image of him dressed in his own satin blue dress.

"Hey, Father, have you ever worn a dress like mine before?" The seemingly innocent question popped out without her permission.

The poor man jumped and his eyes widened when they landed on her. He looked particularly green when he mumbled a yes.

Her eyes widened, a surprised giggle erupting from her lips, and her father shot her a glare before storming off, muttering about how boys do stupid things as kids.

Normally a glare from a parental figure would be enough to reprimand a toddler; instead it made her giggles roar into maniacal cackles, and the confused looks her mother and twin shot her when they exited Vinnie's room only made her laugh even harder.

Death Eaters in pretty dresses. That was a hoot.

It was only until they reached the giant fireplace in the living room and her mother shouting a random address while throwing in some Floo powder that her laughter finally died down. She was shaking with mirth while she and her twin each clutched one of their mother's hands, and were stepping into the roaring green fire together when her mother suddenly turned her head and said in a contented tone, "I'm very pleased you're in good spirits to meet the Malfoys."

The young girl's mind could only pull a blank at that comment.

"Wait, what?"

Valeria almost dropped the hand she was clutching as a green world zoomed and spun around her, fireplaces zipping past at an alarming speed. She inhaled a mouthful of ash and soot, choking on the foreign particles. Her feet stepped on solid ground and she leaned on a cool marble fireplace, her head bent forward and short figure shaking as she coughed. A massive glob of spit flew in a graceful arc from her mouth and onto the lush carpet under her feet as she looked up at her family, grimacing at the bitter taste on her tongue.

"That was disgusting, let's never do that again."

Valeria's eyes met the aghast faces of the Malfoy family and her mother's appalled one. She made the solid assumption that she did not, in fact, make a good impression on one of the most influential wizarding families around. Spitting on their obviously expensive carpet can do that to one's reputation. Victoria Crabbe looked like she wanted to cry.

"Oops."

"Mister and Misses Malfoy," Victoria quickly apologized. "Please accept my sincerest apologies for my youngest child. It was her first time travelling by the Floo Network." Funny that, Valeria sincerely thought her unappealing entrance was truly living up to the Crabbe family name.

Lucius Malfoy's cold eyes met Valeria's and he sneered a little when she looked away. "I can see that."

"It is a pleasure to finally meet your children, Victoria," Narcissa stepped in and expertly turned the tense situation around with a beatific smile. She gave her son a barely noticeable nudge. The small child approached Victoria and kissed her hand, surreptitiously hiding a grimace in the action, and parroted his mother. Victoria cooed at the 'darling boy'.

_'Smooth,' _Valeria thought with a grudging appreciation. The Malfoys raised their son with impeccable manners, especially for a four-year-old. Valeria herself found it difficult suppressing her own grimaces around her mother, and she had the past four years to practice schooling her features around the unfortunate hag.

_'Oh, gross,' _Valeria almost said out loud when the blond kid stepped up and grabbed her own hand. _'I'm getting a kiss from Draco Malfoy. Will this nightmare ever end?'_

It was unfortunately very wet and sloppy, Valeria noted as she murmured a proper greeting to the pale family, something that wasn't all that surprising for a toddler. It might have even been adorable if his face wasn't a carefully blank mask, even when he shook her twin's hand. His performance was impeccable, and no self-respecting pureblood parents could be any prouder. She almost detected a hint of smugness from the young boy.

Unfortunately for the Malfoy heir, Valeria still took offense to his obvious distaste for her mother. Only the Crabbe family themselves was allowed to find Victoria Crabbe repulsive, and despite her evil and utter stupidity, Valeria was fond of her mother and her doting approach to her children. She never had that kind of absolute adoration from her former mother and it brought on a strange sense of loyalty.

It would be so _tragic _for the boy if he botched what she assumed to be his first greetings towards houseguests. Valeria wasn't above knocking a kid down a peg or two. No one ever said she didn't have a mean streak.

Especially towards haughty people she didn't like.

"Aren't you going to give my brother a kiss too?"

The adults stared quietly at the children as the young boy faltered and looked confused, "Pardon me?"

"You heard me. It's only fair, you kissed Mother and I."

"But- It's not proper et'quette. He's a boy," the young Malfoy was confused as he looked to his mother and back to the quieter, indifferent twin. "You're a boy."

Clearly in the wizarding world, bestowing a kiss on a fellow man as a greeting wasn't just unconventional, but socially forbidden.

Valeria faked a startled gasp, her twin still indifferent, "Are you telling me he's unworthy of a kiss? This is a slight to the Crabbe family name!"

Poor Draco Malfoy paled, looked back at her, panicked, and drove himself in a corner, "No! An heir to a pureblood family is never unworthy!"

"Then give him a kiss."

"But-"

"Proper purebloods don't say but!"

"He's a boy!"

"Quit your yapping and kiss the damn boy!"

"I-"

"Kiss him!"

"No-"

"Do it!"

"Why-"

"_You must kiss him! Hurry!" _Valeria pushed her face in his, commanding with a false urgency that usually had younger kids in her past life scrambling to carry out her orders, eyes wide with panic.

Valeria prided herself on her bullshit. Fabricating a tense situation out of nothing was something she could do in her sleep. In this case, insulting another pureblood family, even one below one's own station, was something that the boy would want to avoid, especially at the wrath of his father. Fortunately for him, it was just silly child logic that would probably make the adults chuckle later. No harm done, really.

_'Except to his pride,' _Valeria almost snickered. _'Oh, I'm going to enjoy reminding him of this years later.'_

Vinnie, the _still_ indifferent boy (bless his heart), stared blankly and practically fluttered his eyelashes as the twitchy and flustered blonde daintily picked up his fat hand. He almost looked like he was _blushing _a little. Draco Malfoy leaned in gently for an elegant kiss, the tips of his fine, blond baby hair brushing Vinnie's hand and-

The fireplace roared with green flames, a pudgy woman with her equally chubby child stepping inside. The woman blinked at the scene.

"Isn't that a boy?"

The young Malfoy's pale face flushed and he dropped Vinnie's hand. "Yes," he responded defensively, glaring at Valeria.

"So close..." Valeria muttered quietly to herself. Whatever, at least the perfect mask was dropped. It was beginning to creep her out anyways.

"Misses Goyle, young Goyle, so pleased you could make it," Lucius drawled after shooting his son a reproving glance and Valeria a distasteful one for her little scene.

Valeria cursed quietly. Leave it to her mother to drop a bomb on her right before she steps into the Floo Network, _and_ fail to mention that there was _yet another '_friend' they were meeting. She thought that maybe she could handle both an embarrassed Malfoy and an eternally stupid Vinnie, but the extra load of low intelligence might just be too chaotic, even for her, and Valeria can handle complete anarchy. She survived the Crabbes for the last four years, after all.

_'This is increasingly becoming more like an ominous meeting among villains than a play date,' _Valeria grumbled to herself as she eyed the Goyle family in front of her. Who else was going to pop out of the fireplace, Peter Pettigrew? Or maybe Snape, like a bat out of h-

The fireplace roared once again with emerald flames and, lo and behold, out came the very greasy potions master himself. Valeria shrieked, earning herself some incredulous looks, and frantically shifted her eyes to her spit stain on the carpet. She had to avoid eye contact at all costs.

_'Sweet mother of all that is holy!' _Valeria screamed in her mind while the women exchanged pleasantries and the men sneered at each other. _'Cow shit! Why in the hell is __**Snape**__ here!? Why why why why!? On a children's play date to boot! Does he even have kids? Is he hiding them in his hair? I'm pretty sure that's considered a form of abuse, all that grease... Oh lord, why is Mother smiling and nodding her head at him? __**Why is he nodding back**__!? Do they __**know **__each other!? I'm dead, sweet baby Jesus, I am __**dead**__! He's going to use his Legume super mind-reading powers on me! He's going to find out I'm a muggle in witch's clothing and __**kill me**__! He's going to tell..._

_'Actually...' _Valeria breathed a sigh of relief. _'Who __**is **__he going to tell? Dumbledore? I always forget he's secretly on the Light side. I suppose it wouldn't be a __**complete **__disaster if Snape used his prowess in Legume to search my mind.'_

Not that Legume (or rather Legilimency. Valeria wasn't very good at recalling obscure spell names) was a giant concern for the moment anymore. He and Lucius were already disappearing down a corridor and the women were tittering together at something supposedly delightful, like a new way to torture muggles or house-elves or something. It seemed today was a play date for the adults as much as it was for kids.

Valeria paused for a moment. Why would the author of the _Harry Potter _series name this particular mind-reading spell after the French word for vegetable? Maybe because it left the victim feeling like a vegetable afterwards or something? How curious...

"Valeria, dear," her mother's voice called her from her thoughts and the woman knelt down to her height. "Behave."

The young girl flinched at the tone in her mother's voice. She's done it now, finally pissed off her dear old mum. She had long given up trying to see how far the woman could stretch her patience some months back, but it looked like she hit the right button at last. Without even trying.

The woman was waiting for a response, so she quickly mumbled, "Yes, Mother."

A familiar, sinister smile curled up on her face and she patted her daughters hair, "Excellent. It's important you show yourself off as a good match-up."

That last part was said in a whisper, but it hit Valeria's ears like a shout and her earlier panic came back with a vengeance. Her eyes darted around and landed on Narcissa's beautiful face.

"Draco, honey, why don't you go play with your new friends?"

Valeria couldn't help but whimper a little.

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The reincarnation and the brats had assembled in a spacious hall in one of the wings of the Malfoy mansion. (Seriously, how rich were these pretty, blond blood purists? It just wasn't fair, _at all!_)

Vinnie was staring blankly at the ceiling whilst digging for gold (so gross), Malfoy was pouting and wallowing in self-pity, and Goyle had a dopey look on his face. If Valeria had been looking at him she would have found the dull, flat look void of any intelligence in his beady black eyes breathtakingly unbelievable, but instead she was staring at the glum blond with a kind of maddened desperation.

_'Please no,' _she silently begged. _'It's bad enough being a Crabbe. I don't want to have to marry the damn antichrist! Or seduce him, by the way Mother said 'good match'.'_

Sure, he was an innocent and adorable child _now_, but she knew how he would turn out later. He absolutely abhorred muggles and muggleborns in the books, and truthfully Valeria still considered _herself_ a muggle.

Every day, despite the absolute insanity that was her idiotic family was, was wondrous and, well... _**magical**_**. **All the books Valeria could get her hands on she read with absolute fervour, not to prepare her for the dangers she knew would come, but simply because it was all so _amazing_. If she didn't know her mother was an absolute walking disaster, she would have begged for demonstrations with her wand. Instead, she settled for displays of a different strain of magic: the elven kind. Binky indulged all of her breathless requests for magic, and Valeria was absolutely obsessed in a way that only a non-magic person could be.

Which was exactly why she would rather marry a troll than marry Draco Malfoy. She couldn't stand muggle-haters. Besides, their personalities would clash anyways. Valeria didn't want to end up in a relationship like her parents, despite the romantic love story that had to have brought them together.

Valeria will botch the match, whatever it took. No way in _hell_ she was going to marry _this _prat. Anyhow, she'd probably feel like a cradle-robber, even if he caught up to her mental age. She glared at the young boy with a conviction that could raze even Olympus. Her fierce look wavered, however, in the face of such a sad... well, face. Why was he so upset again?

Oh, right.

She'd embarrassed the child in front of his parents, his father who he idolized. Perhaps it was a little cruel a trick to play on such a young kid. Valeria _did_ have the mature (even Valeria had to scoff at herself for that thought. _Mature, _yeah right) brain of a young adult. This boy was a _four-year-old _for crying out loud, they weren't even on the same playing field. It was reminiscent of kicking a puppy.

At that last thought, Valeria turned a little green. She absolutely adored puppies. A hint of regret surfaced in her chest. Maybe she should apologize, or make it up to him?

At the sound of her name, she blinked and looked at Dopey, missing the calculating look in Malfoy's eyes. _'Huh,' _Valeria's thoughts turned idle again. _'I just realized this was when the Unholy Trio was formed. Never realized their 'friendship' was intentionally put together by their parents... Oh sweet mother of...'_

Valeria just had another realization. They expected _her _to be a part of the team, another lackey. It wasn't the Unholy Trio, it was the Unholy _Quartet! _

_'Never!' _She shouted in her mind vehemently. _'Never ever will I- Why in god's name are they looking at me like that?'_

Valeria had yet another realization. She was the odd one out. The only intelligent one. The only girl. And they had picked up on that.

"Pardon me, but what did you just say?" Valeria asked politely. Wouldn't do to anger Dopey too. Malfoy was bad enough.

"I said that we should play Muggle Hunting," Dopey replied slowly, as if it were difficult to string together eight words. Valeria instantly decided to give Dopey a new nickname. He looked more like an ape when his face was in motion.

_'Ape,' _Valeria slowly tested the name in the safety of her mind, not paying attention at all to what he was saying. _'Yes, that fits him perfectly. My god, I don't think there's an ounce of intelligence in him. Even Vinnie looks smarter than him.'_

Valeria shook off the strange sense of pride that sprung up for her brother. "Could you repeat that?"

"Muggle Hunting."

_Oh, no_. Valeria desperately hoped this wasn't what it sound like.

"All of us chase one person around. Just like Muggle hunting," Ape's face twisted in a giddy smile.

"I think _Valeria _should be the muggle," the little blond shit supplied post-haste with a nasty smile. He didn't even realize how right he was.

_'Oh screw him, both of them,' _Valeria shrugged off whatever sympathy she felt for the young Malfoy. _'Vinnie and I can take them __**both**__.'_

No sooner than she thought that, a pair of hands roughly pushed her to the ground. Valeria blinked up, disbelief coursing through her.

Vinnie.

It was _Vinnie _who pushed her.

Her own _twin._

This broke some kind of law. An unspoken rule. If any kind of siblings stuck together, it was twins. Valeria of all people should know. He may be a violent little idiot, but he was still a child and he hit both their parents too; heck, it was probably a sign of affection to the unintelligent child, though Valeria wasn't sure where he learned it from.

She was sure he loved her, and she was fond of him too. Valeria affectionately called him 'Vinnie' in the safety of her own mind. He was the family member that had grown on her the most. Whenever he enraged their father, he would come running to hide behind _her _and she would level Valere with a gaze of fierce hatethat made him so uncomfortable, he left and forgot whatever the heck Vinnie did to piss him off. Vinnie went to Valeriawhen in need, not their mother. _Valeria_.

_' And yet he...'_

What brought this on? What could have possibly changed that made him turn on her like this. Nothing was different between them, at least she didn't think so. Was it because of these... these..._ brats?! _Vinnie wanted to secure his friendship that badly? By god, it was seriously looking like whatever Malfoy touched really did turn sour. Valeria's shocked eyes studied his black ones... was that... in the depths of idiocy that constantly shrouded his eyes, was that...?

_'Is that... Anger I see in his eyes? Under all that stupidity and unintelligence?' _Valeria thought, further shocked. _'No that is jealousy, isn't it? What in the hell is he jealous of, did __**he**__ want to be the damn muggle pariah?'_

It took Valeria a moment, but she realized what he was envious of.

_'Father, that motherfucker!' _Valeria cursed profusely. _'He's jealous that Father is showering me with attention. I swear to god, that man brings me nothing but pain! But that was why Vinnie was so quiet and peaceful? It took him __**that **__long to figure out he was __**jealous**__?! He is seriously so slow that it took him __**hours **__to figure that out? By god, I take it back, all back. He's just as stupid as the Ape.'_

A sharp kick to her side interrupted her. Valeria twitch her head to see Malfoy sneering down at her in a weak imitation of his father's. "You better start running, muggle."

With that, Valeria kicked up and sped through the halls of Malfoy Manor with a speed she didn't even know she possessed.

...

Ten minutes later, and there she was. Angry red sparks blowing up all around her in the small hiding space, with dark and angry mutters in an accent that would have even her parents raising eyebrows in confusion.

A shout of, "What was that?" had her quieting down and the sparks fizzling out. Voices crept closer until they stopped right in front of the tapestry.

"I think I heard someone over here."

"Don't be stupid, there's nothing here." Evidently, not even Malfoy knew about this hidey-hole. Useful information for the future.

Right now though, it was _**payback time**_.

If there was anything Valeria had been proud of in her past life, it was her Smeagol voice. Yes, you read that right. Smeagol, as in the crazed midget from _Lord of the Rings_ that was obsessed with his precious ring. Valeria had had it down to an art, and it was time to see if her tiny vocal chords could imitate the voice in this life.

An evil cackle emanated from behind the tapestry, making the boys jump. _"Hello, boys. Gregory, Vincent... Draco. How nice to finally meet the children of my followers."_

"Who-Who's there?" Came the quaky voice of Malfoy.

_"Why, isn't it obvious? I am the most powerful of them all, the purest dark lord, the nightmare that makes muggles and mudbloods quake in their beds," _Valeria hissed. _"It is I, Lord Voldemort!"_

Valeria tugged at her magical core, the power zinged through her body and loud bangs erupted around the children. They jumped like scared little rabbits and ran away screaming, their shrieks bouncing down the halls. Valeria giggled and cackled, slipping out from behind the tapestry once they were long gone.

"That was spectacular."

Valeria was immensely proud of herself, humming as she strolled down the halls before slowing to a stop. What now?

She supposed she could go find the adults, but that sounded boring and she was still frightened of greasy old Snape. Better to wander and explore the halls of Malfoy Manor. There was bound to be interesting things lying around.

The pseudo-child resumed humming and walked aimlessly around the mansion, swinging her head around to look at everything. She opened a random door and discovered a beautiful, albeit dusty bedroom. A light caught her eye, or rather a reflection.

Valeria gazed in wonder at the mirror. It had a gorgeous framework, gilded with a dull gold. The intricate and delicate patterns looked immensely difficult to achieve, and the artist in Valeria could appreciate the effort that evidently went into it. What really had her enraptured, however, was her own reflection.

_'This is the first time I've ever laid eyes on a mirror in the wizarding world,' _Valeria thought in awe. _'I don't think there is a single one in our house. Mother probably removed them all. I would too, if I looked like her.'_

By extension, Valeria had never even had a proper look at herself. There were blurred reflections in water, but here she had a crystal clear image of herself. Stringy black hair just like her mother's fell around her chubby shoulders, and flat on her forehead. She wasn't exactly pretty, not that she had expected to. Actually, there was nothing pretty about her except...

_'No wonder he flinched,' _Valeria thought back to her birth, when she was first shoved unceremoniously in her father's arms. _'It must have been so disconcerting to see your own eyes in a baby you don't even want, an alien creature.'_

And it was no wonder the looks of hatred and disgust she threw at him made him so very uncomfortable. Imagine your own eyes glaring at you with loathing in their depths. It must have been something akin to punishment. _'Good,' _Valeria thought angrily, her grey eyes narrowing in the mirror. _'The baby-hating murderer deserves it.'_

She peered closer at her image. Come to think of it, besides the eyes and the hair, she looked nothing like her parents, or even her own twin. Vincent Crabbe had thick, fat features and deep set eyes, just like their mother. Victoria Crabbe in particular had sallow skin, and a haphazardly squashed nose. Their father, on the contrary, had delicate and soft features, with an aristocratic impression.

Valeria looked nothing like that. In her past life she had an average face (let's face it, everything in her past life had been average and boring), but here her face was rather... pointy in comparison to her family. Pointy nose, pointy chin. She probably resembled a cousin or an aunt, if she had any. If she really did have extended family, she wouldn't blame them for not visiting. They were the _Crabbe _family, who in their right minds wanted to see _that _freak show.

"Wow," she whispered to herself, eyes hooded after staring into the mirror for what felt like seconds but actually several minutes. She hadn't even realized she had stepped closer to the mirror. Honestly, Valeria could sit their gazing all day at her own reflection, and the mirror was just so _inviting..._

A small leathery, dry hand grabbed her own, tugging it away from the mirror's surface. Valeria could have sworn the object shuddered with disappointment.

The reincarnation gulped. When did her hand lift up to reach out and touch the reflective surface? She was sure she hadn't consciously made the decision. How strange.

"Little Crabbe," came an eerily familiar squeak. "You mustn't touch the mirror. 'Tis cursed, it is. A dark object that will suck you in and never lets you go!"

Valeria blinked at the small form next to her. "Binky? No... You're Dobby the house-elf!"

Dobby's huge tennis ball eyes widened and bowed. "Dobby is honoured the little Crabbe remembers his name."

"This is wonderful!" Valeria laughed, completely ignoring his warning. "Pleasure to meet you, Dobby, my name is Valeria Irma Crabbe. Let's be friends!"

The house-elf squealed in fear, "Dobby is unworthy of a witch's friendship! House-elves are below their wizarding masters!"

Valeria frowned. "Don't be silly. I'm already friends with my own house-elf, Binky, anyways." Plus it would be awesome to be friends with the Malfoy family's house-elf. The pranks and the shenanigans she could get up to...

The little house-elf in question teared up and started bawling, screaming about how Valeria was oh so kind and how neither a witch nor a wizard had _ever _offered him or any other house-elf their friendship. It took quite a while to calm him down. When she finally managed after the poor thing bashed it's head into the wall, she sighed and turned her attention back towards her reflection in the mirror. It was drawing her in, and she simply couldn't resist it...

Dobby practically dragged her from the dark object. "No, missus! 'Tis cursed, cursed!"

"Wha..?"

"Missus, you will be lost forever if you give in to its temptation!"

Valeria looked back again at the mirror, and finally noticed something most disturbing. She shivered. The girl was the only reflection in its- now that she was aware enough to feel the magic- pulsating surface. Literally, the only reflection. There was no bed or dresser where it should be, only a white floor and white walls, and a quick check confirmed that the carpet was supposed to be silver and the paint emerald. Valeria herself was dragged by empty air, Dobby wasn't in there at all.

It was positively scary now. The throbbing presence of evil that was laced throughout it didn't help matters, and now that she was concentrating on it, she could feel the evil magic of various dark objects surrounding her in the room, and even in the rest of the house.

"Why do the Malfoys leave something so dangerous lying around in the house for children to find," Valeria asked, a little shaky.

"Because, missus," the house-elf replied a little quietly, eyeing her strangely. "The mirror can only capture the vanity of mature minds, vanity that..."

Valeria froze, heart shuddering as she hoped Dobby didn't realize anything off about her. "That...?"

"Vanity that no child such as yourself should possess. It has only ever possessed adults and older children, missus."

* * *

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* * *

Valeria stepped quietly out of the fireplace with her mother and twin, glad to be safe in the confines of her own home. There were no dark objects in reach here.

It had taken forever to convince a concerned Dobby not to tell Lucius of the accident with the mirror. Thankfully, the house-elf hadn't realized there was something different about her and was convinced the mirror had somehow evolved to affect toddlers as well. He wanted it put away. Valeria managed to assuage his worries by throwing a dusty blanket over the creepy thing.

_'So close,' _Valeria shivered. _'If Dobby hadn't been there...'_

She suddenly had the urge to kiss the sweet house-elf.

"Valeria," her mother's obnoxious voice interrupted her thoughts not for the first time. "What did you think?"

Valeria noticed her twin had gone ahead, clearly as tired as she was and anxious to sleep. "Think of what, Mother?" _You know no one in our family thinks._

Victoria winked at her and gave her nudge. Valeria groaned in response, remembering the little hints her mother had shot at her, her exhausted mind forgetting that she shouldn't speak so openly like an adult. "Mother, I don't like pompous blondes. Please don't pair me up with Malfoy."

Mercifully, her mother didn't notice or take offense. She just looked bemused, which was a strange look on the very dim-witted Victoria Crabbe.

"Well," she said dryly. "I suppose it's a good thing I originally paired you up with Gregory Goyle."

Valeria stopped.

Curled up.

And cried.

* * *

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A/N: Wow, poor Valeria. A Crabbe _and _soon to be Goyle. Everyone last chapter expected it to be Malfoy. So **of course** I went back and changed it all up so it looked like it would be him. Even Valeria thought it was Malfoy. I so love fooling and surprising people.

**PAIRINGS STILL AREN'T FIXED! **I know it probably looks like it'll definitely be a Malfoy/Valeria or maybe even Goyle/Valeria pairing (yuck), but I'm still not sure and want to see how she interacts with other characters (the characters write the story, not me). I know I said don't badger me about it in the first chapter, but I really don't mind hearing what pairings people like. But **seriously**, don't badger me.

I decided to make Valeria's past background Canadian, simply because the only environment I'm familiar with is Canada considering I've lived my whole life here and it would be difficult to write from the perspective of well... anywhere else, really. (Except for maybe America).

Really though, Canadian geese are **vicious** creatures. A relative got too close once despite our warnings (that stupid foreigner) and it bit right into his crotch. His screams of agony weren't all that pleasant.

If you don't review, Snape will use his Legume powers to turn you into a vegetable!

-Fiction

PS: I can't remember for sure, but is Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle actually unofficially called the Unholy Trio? I felt like they should have a nickname since the Golden Trio have one, but I get the feeling I've read it somewhere before.


	5. Valere I: Bonus

A/N: Hello, my beautiful, magical, wondrous, amazing readers. So sorry for the week late update, life has been thoroughly kicking my butt. This chapter is even longer than the last one, plus it has a bonus side story at the end, so I hope that makes up for it.

I had some reviewers asking me to please not make Valeria marry Goyle. It was funny, to say the least.

**Semi important note:** It has become painfully clear to me while rereading the past chapter that my writing isn't very funny at all. Maybe I think that because I'm the writer of this story, but there are other themes playing in this fic other than the two listed, as is the case with most stories. So, I'm changing the Humor listing to Family, since it is also a very big theme. Rest assured, I won't be slacking off on the funny bits, I'm still going to be throwing comedy at you, so it won't affect the tone of my writing than originally planned. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the owner of Harry Potter. I just own Binky and Valeria.

No Beta.

* * *

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* * *

**Chapter Five: Valere I + Bonus**

Valere very nearly had a heart attack when he walked into his study that morning.

There were a couple reasons why.

One, it had suddenly became very clear to him that either his wife, or his two children had entered his study. This was a cause for concern, not because he was working on some dangerous runes or hiding wizard porn in the space- he wasn't.

The very idea of his family voluntarily approaching anything to do with work, or academic study was so otherworldly, it shocked his system.

Yes, Valeria was marginally more intelligent than his wife and son. Yes, she absolutely devoured books and practically lived in their small library- he knew because he asked Binky.

But when handed arithmancy handouts, or fill-in-the-blank worksheets, she would slide the papers right back across the table with a very unimpressed expression and stalk out of the room- again, he asked Binky.

It was safe to say Valeria's interests did not extend towards the realm of effort.

It was also depressing to learn that the last hope for his family would never make it past basic addition and subtraction.

In any case, this sudden one-eighty in his family's personality and character confounded him, if not frightened him half to death. The very room was called 'the study', they should have been avoiding it on principle!

But alas, there, on his desk, lay the second reason for his near-death experience.

An innocent-looking ruffly thing with a note carefully placed on top, proof that _someone_ ventured into his private sanctuary- and it wasn't Binky because she would never leave something laying around on his desk.

Valere's first thought was, _'It's a trap!'_

Next thought was, _'It's a cursed item.'_

_'It'll explode when touched.'_

After that, _'A distraction to catch me off guard so they could finish me off!'_ Which it would seem to be working.

Then, when the ten second panic was past, the sudden, stark realization that he believed his own _family_ was out to get him.

Valere made a mental note to seek therapeutic help.

Despite berating himself for his paranoia, the man proceeded with caution. He advanced towards the inanimate object in a rigid stance with his wand at the ready, looking distinctly like a fencer in the midst of a fierce and deadly duel.

Even a child would claim the sight was silly.

Now, standing in front the small pile of ruffle and lace, he cast every counter-curse and detection spell he knew. Nothing happened. He allowed himself to relax a little and pulled out a powerful detection runic circle he always carried on his person. Sticking his wand into the crumpled parchment and muttering a spell that would allow his magic to bleed into the carefully drawn lines, he then slid the paper onto the surface of his desk.

It had a big enough area of effect to surround the entirety of his desk, and it was meant to reveal any cursed or harmful objects with a distinct black aura. Both the note and the pile proved to be safe.

Ironically enough, an innocent looking remembrall his distant cousin had sent him was immediately surrounded by a vile, black fog. Valere thanked his lucky stars that he was always too preoccupied to actually remember to _check_ to see if he was forgetting something.

He will admit though, that he was a little disappointed with the results of his rune. Now Valere didn't have an excuse to burn the pile where it lay and be done with it all.

"Merlin's balls," he muttered vehemently.

The man took the time to ponder.

He was still a little afraid to find out what those ruffles actually were. He had an inkling suspicion that it was another piece of lingerie his wife would leave lying around his frequent haunts. In all honesty, if this was in any other room besides his study, he would have already deemed it a seduction attempt and asked Binky to please remove it.

But there lay the contradiction in his hypothesis. Victoria was practically allergic to his study and would never venture near the room. Too much academia and work, as it were.

Valere quickly decided that the note was the safest option to start with and laboriously lifted his hand to pick it up and read it. The man narrowed his eyes at the childish scrawl.

_To go with your pretty dress ;)_

_-V.C._

Well, that didn't help at all. They all shared the same initials and all three would have messy handwriting; the children for their poor locomotive skills, and his wife for her lack of use of said skills.

The bigger question was, what blazing dress did this note refer to?

And why on earth would they include a semi-colon and a bracket? Completely nonsensical.

Thoroughly confused, and with a sense of foreboding growing within him, he poked at the ruffles with his wand and lifted it up.

Hanging on the tip, was a small, lace bracelet- or cuff, maybe- with blue beads and a shiny ribbon sewn in an intricate design. It indeed was cute, and would go nicely with whatever hypothetical dress he found himself in.

Valere looked back at the note, the parchment hanging sideways from his fingers. The winky face seemed to grin playfully at him.

Ah.

He was finally beginning to understand what kind of person Valeria Crabbe was.

But maybe he should ask Binky, just to make sure.

* * *

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* * *

An hour later, Valere had finally prepared himself to look his daughter in the eye at breakfast, and maybe, just maybe have a friendly conversation.

Shouldn't be too hard.

The Crabbe family was already seated at the table when he arrived, and the man avoided looking anyone in the eye when he sat down, just as he had for the last three or so years. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. In his periphery, he noted that Valeria was the only one not eating. Was she perhaps waiting to say something?

Biting into his toast, he decided to make eye contact with her and greet her with a proper good morning.

And then promptly took a sip of his coffee and opened up _The Daily Prophet_, effectively hiding behind the sheets of paper, as per usual. He didn't even glance at her.

Valere wanted to slap himself. This was his four-year-old daughter for crying out loud, he shouldn't be _this _afraid of her!

Steeling himself, (and was that a rush of adrenalin? Pathetic), he cleared his throat and peeked over the newspaper, a good morning practically on the tip of his tongue.

His mouth, however, flopped opened, but it wasn't to address his daughter. It was open in shock.

There was no look of boredom in her eyes, neither a look of private amusement. She wasn't lost in thought, nor eyeing her brother critically. Heck, she wasn't even glaring at her father.

Instead, Valeria Crabbe had the deadest look that he had ever seen in her eyes whilst staring at eggs and bacon. It reminded him a little of himself during his period of engagement to Victoria.

Maybe she was sick of bacon?

_'No,' _Valere quickly dismissed that ludicrous thought. _'That's impossible.'_

What could possibly be wrong?

The man glanced at his wife and son. They were both merrily digging into their piles of food, his wife taking a few moments to chatter inanely about something that passed right over his head. Whatever was bothering the little girl, it didn't concern them.

Valere cleared his throat again, "Valeria?"

She grunted at him in a most unladylike fashion. He decided to ignore it.

"H-how are you feeling today?"

He was beginning to think she was going to ignore him, when she finally spoke up.

"...Like in the blink of an eye, the sun has winked out of the sky, the land has withered and curled into itself, and the oceans have run dry..."

Valere blinked in confusion at the words and morose tone. "I'm sorry, wha-"

"In the span of a heartbeat," the girl continued over him, moving her arms and clenching her fists in a dramatic fashion to emphasize her words. "Mountains have crumbled into dust, fires have trembled and died out, ice creeping to cover every inch of our dead_, dead_ land."

"Valeria-"

"All the warmth is gone. It's so so _so_ cold, and," she began to sound a bit manic. "And the- the magic... all the magic is dead and gone. Dry. Dry like our oceans...! Despair cloaking the sky- the black sky- like clouds of doom...!"

Valere was speechless.

"That," the girl said tremulously. "Is how I am feeling today."

And with that said, the girl burst into tears and ran out of the room, sending Valere into another very near heart attack, and eliciting a very unmanly yelp.

He opened and close his mouth like a gaping fish. He looked across the table to Victoria.

"Is everything alright with Valeria?"

The woman paused in her ramblings to give him a very puzzled look.

"Of course she's alright! What could have possibly made you think otherwise?"

Valere's eye twitched at the ignorant woman. He glanced at their son and he too didn't seem to have noticed the melodramatic way in which his sister excused herself from the table.

Then again, Valere sighed, the boy has always had that vacant look on his face.

* * *

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* * *

The quill scratched against the parchment, steady and sure, drawing symbols and shapes and archaic languages in a precise and practiced arrangement, the runic language completing the magic circle. Ink stained his fingertips, and with a particularly forceful flick of his wrist, splattered across the desktop.

Valere sighed.

He waved his wand and muttered a scourgify under his breath, scouring the desk free of the offending, magic-conducting liquid. Picking up the finished runic circle, he examined the lines with a critical eye.

Valere sighed again.

It was no good. It had been hours of silent work, and he still couldn't focus long enough to produce something that wouldn't explode in his face. Throwing the faulty rune into the large failure pile, he reached into his pocket to examine the frilly bracelet.

Perhaps she had tried messing with him in an attempt to cheer herself up. She must have been pretty desperate for a pick-me-up if she was willing to venture near his private work space, just to leave behind something to rile him up.

Or, more likely, she had decided to give a prank gift, and the resulting fumes of academia and hard work had drained her very soul, much like a Dementor. He had witnessed a similar phenomenon with Victoria when she ventured in here for the first and last time. One look at all the scholarly books, piles of parchment and complicated runes, and she had fallen ill in bed for a month.

Acute depression, or something along those lines.

Anyhow, Valere wasn't going to find out for sure. Not unless he explicitly asked her, face-to-face. He sighed, pocketing the bracelet again, and prepared himself for the confrontation.

_"BINKY!"_

A crack, and the house-elf he was looking for was standing before him. "Yes, sir?"

He cleared his throat, "Binky, what is wrong with Valeria?"

The elf raised a non-existent brow, "Why, many things sir, for all her years. She is the strangest human child to come into existence. Binky didn't think it was much of a concern since she is not harming herself, or those around her."

Valere drew a blank at that and tried again, "No, I mean, what is wrong with her _now_?"

"There is always something wrong with Valeria, sir."

He took several moments to absorb that. Now that he actively thought about it, that was a very true statement. But it wasn't the time for that, not now.

"Why is she so depressed though? This is unprecedented."

"Not unprecedented."

"Pardon?"

"She was in a state of depression when she was a little over a year old, as much as a baby could be depressed. Right after the night of the Dark Lord's fall."

Huh. How strange.

"But," the elf continued. "Binky's guess is as good as yours, sir. I know as much as you should."

"Well, that's no good," he muttered under his breath. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"You could, if Binky may be so bold," she replied dryly. "Ask the girl. Yourself."

The man spluttered at the miniature person. "A-a-a-ask her? _Myself?!_"

The elf levelled her human master with a look. "She is _your _daughter."

The two magical persons had an eight second staring match before the man gave up with a grimace.

He growled like a child reprimanded by their parent, "_Fine!_"

* * *

(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

* * *

Valere, despite his word, did not immediately approach his daughter.

He ended up sneaking around his own house like a magical burglar, back pressed against the walls, head turning to and fro, wand at the ready. He was tempted to wear a _black_ mask, but decided that was too silly and would make it look like he was dressed in a thief's costume.

So instead, he had tied an emerald and silver handkerchief around the bottom half of his face- conveniently forgetting that he could have easily cast a Disillusionment Charm to avoid recognition.

He came upon his daughter's playroom, somewhere he had never ventured to before, lest he suffer nightmares from whatever tortures she conducts down here.

Valere reminded himself of his resolve to seek therapeutic help. It wouldn't do to run around convinced his four-year-old daughter liked to torture for fun.

With a hand trembling in fear, he pushed open the playroom doors.

Oh my.

Well, at least there were no mutilated bodies lying around, or bloody iron maidens.

In their place, were piles of books spirited away from the library and- his eyes narrowed at this- from his own private study. Most were haphazardly organized, but there was small pile neatly placed with care. Story books, he noticed, and beastiaries. So, she liked fantasy and animals.

This surprised him, although it shouldn't have. It was a very... childlike interest, fantasy and animals, he means. It was a pity there were so few novels in the wizarding realm, and that the Crabbes didn't have much of a collection in the study of creatures.

The bigger surprise though, was the musical instrument and the painted canvases. The instrument was merely a simple violin, child-sized, but it appeared well cared for. The really shocking part was that he didn't remember Victoria hiring any tutors of any kind, let alone a violinist. Perhaps she read about violin care in one of these books, and implemented the theory?

The elegant strokes on the canvases, however, were a delight to Valere. It took a precise and steady hand like this to create and experiment with runic circles, and already at such a young age. Maybe he could teach her about his profession and have her carry on the torch of his job within the Runes and Symbols department-

No, it wouldn't work. Valeria hated arithmancy, which is an essential part of arranging runic circles. His hopes for his offspring were brutally crushed once again.

Feeling glum, he examined the subjects of the paintings, only to be mystified once again.

How curious.

The first painting was so detailed, he found it hard to believe a child could possibly conceive it. Such an image could only have come from a real photograph, although he hadn't a clue where Valeria could have seen such a picture. Certainly not the Malfoy's, considering it appeared to be a family photo of _muggles_.

It was a family of seven, standing in front of a modest house. Two parents, and by Merlin were those five, _five _daughters? They all looked rather plain and unremarkable, even for muggles. The parents were old and brown-haired, and looked like stiff academics. Their daughters were skinny, also brown-haired, and looked like a bunch impulsive twits. The odd children in the classroom, if you will.

Two comparatively older daughters- young adults, even- were in the back, arms hugging around the shoulders, and chins resting atop the heads of a pair of teenagers in front of them. The teens were gripping the littlest one's shoulders in the front. They looked very close-knit.

On closer inspection, he realized there was something off about the family. The parents were about two feet apart from the huddled sisters, and there was a tenseness in the figures of the children. The two eldest had strained smiles, as if it took effort. The teenage girls- one of whom was frowning softly- looked like they were trying their best to keep the youngest from running off. She had a most menacing scowl painted on her young features. The only one who appeared to be happy out of the whole family was the other teenage girl, her face lit up in a beatific smile.

It looked mostly like a family suffering from the after effects of a giant fight.

It was extraordinary.

The painting wasn't even bewitched to move, and yet the family was painted with such character. Valeria had evidently put a lot of effort and care into it.

Valere examined the other paintings. One was of one of the teenage girls napping with a large dog, maybe a black Husky or something like that. He wasn't all that familiar with dog breeds. Maybe a German Shepherd? In any case, the girl's behaviour was practically barbaric. She was sleeping with the mutt _on her bed_, a lady should never allow slobbering beasts in even her bed chambers!

Another was an image of all five girls simply lazing around a large couch and an armchair, although it didn't have as much detail as the other two. The eldest had the comfort of the chair and was absorbed in a book, the other four squished on the sofa. A teenager was frowning as she battled the rowdy younger one for a bag of muggle candy, the little girl's face painted with a look of ferocious determination. The dog was there again, sitting against the couch and nosing his muzzle at the candy bag, trying to sneak it away. The last two were watching, the older one smiling softly and the other teenager was doubled over in laughter. In this one, at least, they all looked relaxed.

The last one of the muggle family was of the two teenage girls. Their arms were interlocked, one with a big happy smile on her face as she stared out the portrait, the other with a soft smile, the eyes that were resting on her sister's face betraying how happy she was by crinkling in delight. It wasn't obvious in the other paintings because of stark difference in expression, but it was clear in this one that the two were twins.

Truly, the only thing remarkable about this plain muggle family was how close the daughters appeared to be. When they were together, they looked like a single unit. Valere's eyes swept across the family paintings again. He almost felt like he was intruding on something just by looking at their images.

Was this why Valeria was upset? That their own family was some broken bunch of weirdos, and this was the result of her need for normalcy? Which brings up the question of why a muggle family, and why this very sudden drop in mood.

It probably wasn't because of family, Valere surmised when he examined the paintings critically. They appeared to have been painted over a long period of time, it wouldn't explain the instant case of depression. He sighed from underneath his handkerchief, turned around, and spotted another painting he missed.

This one appeared to be almost done, the fresh paint indicating it was recently painted. It was also easily the most depressingly macabre thing in the room. An image of a bride in an intricate gown was laying down on an altar, arms laid like a corpse, her ankle chained to the altar, makeup running down her cheeks with her tears, surrounded by grinning skeletons in fancy robes. On closer inspection, the designs in her dress appeared to be deformed, screaming faces.

The bride looked suspiciously like an older version of Valeria Crabbe.

Valere was horrified. His mind tried to connect such a gruesome image to his mischievous daughter. How could she- she- she even _imagine _this! He could understand a strange muggle family, but _this?!_ Where did she get these ideas from? He swivelled around at the books in accusation. From one of these books perhaps?

Valere was seriously considering censoring some of the heavier books from her. He thought locking up and hiding the dark and cursed objects would be enough to keep the twins safe, but clearly a few ghastly texts with grisly details were still hanging around the family library.

Binky was right; there really was something with Valeria Crabbe.

That, however, was another issue for another time. Valere calmed himself down and looked back at the disturbing painting. Why a bride? Valeria wasn't engaged or slated to be at all, at least, not that he was aware of...

"Merlin's _balls!_" The man yelled in horror.

He couldn't even ask Binky to be sure, she said she knew as much as he did. That left Victoria and Valeria to question, two people he felt horribly uncomfortable with approaching. The possibility of his theory being correct was highly low though. Valere was her father, if Victoria was going to _plan _something like this, she would have at least _mentioned _it to him. He was sure she would.

Who to ask?

Victoria?

Or Valeria?

Merlin, t was like choosing between castration and horrific torture.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Valere's shout about a certain, great wizard's saggy parts drew someone's attention, and he didn't have to choose at all. A sharp and high voice interrupted his inner turmoil.

"What are you doing in here?"

Valere whipped around to find the very enigma that bothered him all day, standing in the door of her playroom. Her arms were crossed and stormy eyes narrowed in anger. He was about to respond when she practically drooped under the weight of a thousand Victoria's, her arms uncrossing and her eyes taking on a look of emptiness.

"Never mind. I don't care anymore."

It was a sad sight, really. Valere will admit he panicked. His mind drew a blank. So he did something really silly. Striking a theatrical pose, he shouted out in a dramatic voice.

"Behold! I am the great, magical burglar thief, Val- uh- Rogue!"

The child looked at him in disbelief. "Valarogue?"

"No, no. Just Rogue."

"Valarogue," she ignored him, looking at him with disgust now. "What's keeping me from summoning my house-elf and having her curse you all the way to the moon?"

"Just Rogue, please," he practically begged. "And I am no ordinary burglar thief! I do not steal valuable items! I sneak into the rooms of children and steal away their sadness and sorrow! Haha!"

"So let me get this straight," the girl curled her lip, her tone accusatory. "You, Valarogue-"

"Just Rogue."

"- sneak into prepubescent kids' bedrooms when their parents aren't around, and... 'steal away their sadness'."

"... Well, when you put it like that, it sounds horribly wrong."

"Of course it does," the girl growled, her face twisting in revulsion. "You sound like an abhorrent _pedophile_."

"But I'm not!" He cried desperately. "I'm Rogue, I steal misery from sad children so they can be happy!"

"I know that, Valarogue," she crossed her arms again. "You're nothing but a bumbling idiot."

He muttered that it was just Rogue. It was painful to hear that his own daughter though him an idiot. It hurt all the more because she was kind of right in this instance. He sighed.

"Never mind all that," he waved it off. "Tell me why you're upset."

The girl tilted her head, appraising him. Surprisingly enough, he felt more comfortable talking to her as this alter-ego. If it was as Valere, instead of Rogue, he would have been trembling and looking for the nearest escape route. He wasn't a pitiful father, but a magical superhero. Finally, she shrugged at him.

"I'm engaged," she grimaced, and Rogue swore under his breath. "To Gregory Goyle."

Rogue's eyes bugged out at that, "George's son?! When did _that _happen?!"

"I don't _knowww_!" She shouted back in frustration and despair. "Apparently, my mother had been talking about it for weeks during mealtimes, and it'd somehow went in one ear and out the other! She's already signed an engagement contract with them!"

"Weeks?!" He yelled in confusion. "She's always rambling, every second of the day, how did we miss that!"

"_I don't know! _She's like an annoying white noise machine," the girl cried. "I only trained my brain to automatically tune out all her nonsensical babble during breakfast, lunch and dinner, not in between! But apparently she chose not to speak about it in private!"

"My mind is programmed like that too!" he hollered back, his mind on the fritz. "And she didn't talk about it with me in private either!"

"How does she do it," Valeria had tears in her eyes. "It's like some skill she's mastered, to sneak up behind you and pull the rug out from under your feet! No matter how much you adjust to her!"

They both pulled on their hair, yelling and howling in frustration about the annoyance that is Victoria Crabbe.

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Victoria Crabbe had been snooping around her husband's private bed chambers, leaving behind a whale sized, suggestive bra and panty set, when she sneezed a great and powerful sneeze. Then another. And another.

She sniffed. She wondered if there was anyone gossiping about her.

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"What is a white-noise machine, anyways," Rogue asked the little girl after they had calmed down.

"Uh," the girl faltered, before she looked at him dryly. "Why would the magical burglar thief, Valarogue, have to train his mind into filtering out _my_ mother's blathering?"

"I-uh- that is a great mystery indeed, but magical burglar thieves do not reveal their secrets, or something. And it's just Rogue."

She rolled her eyes at him and muttered something suspiciously like 'idiot' under her breath. Rogue examined the misfit in front of him. Really, it was no wonder looking at her during breakfast had reminded him of himself when he was engaged. It wasn't that it was similar, it was _exactly the same_.

Rogue cleared his throat. "But you know, Valeria, you don't have to worry about marrying the Goyle's son. You can refuse the marriage, and I'm sure your father will support you in your decision."

At the change in subject, the girl had tensed, but looked genuinely surprised at that last bit. "Really? You really- I mean- he really would? Support me, I mean."

The doubt colouring her tone made Rogue want to cry, although he supposed he deserved it.

"Well, why wouldn't I- I mean- why wouldn't he?"

"For one, he's a fancy, muggle-hating, blood purist with a pole stuck up his arse," she said bluntly and he winced. "And I don't expect no medi-witch or wizard to be skilled enough to surgically remove it, anyways. Why wouldn't he want me to marry a pure-blood?"

"Uh... well... that's a difficult subject we're-"

She held up a hand to stop him, "That's not the issue anyways."

"It's not?"

"You honestly think anyone would be able to force me into marrying _that_ ape?" She sneered at the idea. "No, I'd sooner Avada that primate than kiss it. My issue is that I'm going to be living my seven years at Hogwarts known as _his fiancee!"_

Ah. There's the problem. She can't deny the engagement until she's of legal age.

"It's bad enough that I'm a Crabbe," she continued with despair, and Rogue flinched at her statement. "And that I'm Vinnie's younger twin sister, no offense to him. Everyone's going to look at me and see my family and their reputation, _and _the Goyle's. I haven't left yet, and I'm already coloured a certain shade in their eyes."

Rogue himself felt depressed to hear of the girl's disdain for her family name. He'll admit, their family doesn't have a nice reputation, but it still hurt.

"Well, who cares what they think?"

"I do," Valeria said frankly. "I just want to live my life peacefully without getting caught up in all this blood purity nonsense. It's bullshit."

_'And that,' _Rogue thought. _'Is a very valid concern. And I have no idea how to fix it for her.'_

"Unless, you know, my father decides to go against my mother and make the engagement null and void," she looked at Rogue hopefully, her big eyes wide and sparkling.

Oh Merlin.

Both Rogue and Valere were going to _hate_ doing this.

"Your father," Rogue began apologetically and sincerely. "Cannot annul a signed agreement your mother made. Standard Magical Engagement Agreements between pureblood families can only be cancelled when one of the parties becomes of age and refuses, or the one who signed the agreement passes on before then. I'm sorry."

Valeria's face crumpled. "That is so messed up! Both parents should have a say in their child's future, at the very least. Wizarding law makes no sense."

"I suppose it doesn't," he murmured.

They sat in silence for a while, and Rogue soon became very uncomfortable. In attempt to take the girl's mind off it all, he asked her about the muggle family paintings.

"This family portrait," he pointed at said painting. "Is so detailed I can only believe you had copied it from a picture or memory. Where did you come across the family?"

The girl looked at it with a faraway expression, "A lifetime ago."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" Rogue asked, confused and a little alarmed.

She rolled her eyes at him, "They're only in my dreams, Valarogue, I'm sure that would've been obvious."

"It's Rogue," he sniffed before a thought came to him. "I could bewitch your portraits to move, if you'd like?"

It had the opposite effect. The girl's face drained of colour. "No, that's too much. I wouldn't be able to stand it."

She left Rogue in the room, muttering quietly, "Lest I find a way to jump into the paintings."

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Valere sat in his study, jumpy and twitchy. It had been a few weeks since Rogue's talk with his daughter, and his alter-ego's handkerchief lay safely hidden in one of the desk drawers. The girl had been thoroughly depressed since then, when she suddenly went from doom and gloom to perky and sunny in the span of the last twenty-four hours. It was frightening.

There was a crack and Binky appeared in the middle of the room.

"Well?! Did you find out?! Why is she behaving like a bipolar psychopath?!"

The house-elf gave him a very dry look and explained to him the most likely reason for her change in attitude. It was a bit of a surprise, to be sure. More of a shock. He hadn't expected _that_ kind of development when she had been essentially ignoring them her whole life.

He supposed he should be concerned that his daughter was talking to inanimate objects.

Good thing they talked back.

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A/N: I would just like to inform you guys that this isn't compliant with my story, meaning it's just a funny blurb that has no effect on or is true to my story. Thank you, and I hope you laugh.

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This.

This is a story.

A story of **WHAT IF?!**

**WHAT IF **Valeria was wrong about Vincent?!

**WHAT IF **Vincent wasn't jealous because of their father?!

**WHAT IF **it was something else entirely?!

Here begins the story of...

**WHAT IF?!**

Vincent Crabbe took the game as opportunity to revolt against his twin sister, jealousy interfering with his already tiny intelligence. He stared blankly down at his sister, who he had just pushed down and was looking back up at him in shock and disbelief.

He didn't care about his father's attention, not really. He only needed his mother and sister's affections, and they gave him plenty of that. If anything, Val cares more about their father than he does, judging by the way she glares at him and messes with his head. He essentially ignored his father most of the time, besides when he wanted to punch or kick something. What could he say? It made him feel powerful and strong.

No, their father wasn't the reason for his jealousy. The real reason was...

"You better start running, muggle," came a sneer from one of the other boys. Vincent twisted his head to look at the blond, a delicate blush painting the twin's pale cheeks.

Yes.

He was the reason.

Draco Malfoy.

Why did Val and their mother get to have a kiss from him, and not Vincent? It wasn't fair.

When he first laid eyes on the boy, he was struck with how pretty his hair was. Like spun gold. And his eyes, grey, like storm clouds. He wanted to say hello, or something witty like, 'I punched my father the other day and it was funny.' That would have made him laugh. It makes Vincent laugh.

But then Vincent remembered a conversation he had with his sister a long time ago. It went something like this:

"Vinnie, you know how I sometimes say something really funny?"

"Yeah."

"And how you sometimes try to follow it up to make it even funnier?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm, probably not the best way to go about this, can't very well say 'you're not funny'. Might hurt your feelings. Let's see... Do you feel smart when you say something... well, 'funny'?"

"Yeah."

"Well, sometimes, you'll look even smarter if you don't say anything at all."

"Yeah."

"Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"..."

"..."

"... Vinnie, I am a cross-dressing merman come to eat you in your sleep."

"Yeah."

"... You know what, never mind, Vinnie."

"Yeah."

It had been a very enlightening conversation, one with intelligent insight provided from both sides.

The rush of excitement he had felt, however, when his sister had essentially gave him a game plan to look smarter and cooler than her in front of other people, made him insurmountably happy. So happy, that he wanted to show her how he felt and how much he loved her for it, in the best way he knew how.

He had given her a swift punch to the gut, and she responded by doubling over, desperately drawing in breath from the weight of his brotherly affection.

So, when he met the Malfoy family, he didn't say a word, not even when he was upset that he didn't get a kiss from his pretty new friend. Then, a stroke of luck.

"Aren't you going to give my brother a kiss too?" Came from his indignant and haughty sister. How he adored his sister.

There was fierce battle between Val and the pale boy, but eventually his sister won, of course. She was very smart, even if Vincent was smarter than she was. His heart sped up when the boy approached him, and he fluttered his eyelashes at him. A blush surfaced on his cheeks and the boy was about to kiss his hand and...

... They were interrupted by the Goyle's. The boy didn't kiss his hand.

Vincent was heartbroken, and Val didn't fight again for his kiss. He didn't even get a chance to show his affection back, Vincent style. A punch straight to the heart.

... It just wasn't fair at all.

Jealousy began to stew in his heart. He wondered if his sister even wanted the boy to give him a kiss, and if she wanted to keep blond for herself. He tried to ignore it. Really, he did. But when they had declared Val to be the muggle of the game, he had pushed her down instead of joining her. Not even a fond push, one out of muted anger.

He had thought, whatever, she'll forgive him. They were brother and sister, after all.

But for now, she was a muggle, he was a Death Eater.

"Come on, after her!" Shouted the blond boy.

And Draco Malfoy was his Dark Lord.

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A/N: Well, there we had a look into Valere's head, his life, Valeria's hobbies, and her past life. I gave a few hints in the previous chapters to some of the things revealed in this one.

Now, I'm curious. Did any of you expect these developments? Which of the sisters in the portraits do you guys think was Valeria in her past life? And what do you think of Vincent and Valere's characters?

Remember to review, please, or send me a PM

-Fiction


	6. Person? What Person?

A/N:

The following chapter is dedicated to my wonderful, former writing teacher who has passed away recently.

In her memory, I do hereby swear to see all of my written works finished to the end.

Fanfiction wasn't exactly her cup of tea, but she always did encourage my style of writing and brand of humour.

That said, I've been arrested by plot bunnies for the last week and have four different stories that insist on being written.

God help me.

Ten points to whoever can recognize the quote in this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

No Beta

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**Chapter 6: Person? What Person?**

Three weeks.

For three weeks, depression had clung onto Valeria like water to a cat's fur, and like a cat it had made her absolutely miserable. A numb cloud of despair permeated the air she breathed, and with every intake of breath she grew even more insufferable. A weight that rivalled Victoria Crabbe's rested on her shoulders, her back stooped wherever she went. It was beginning to affect her ability to think and function, ending up reading the same page over and over for ten minutes, or trying to zip up her stolen shorts over her skirts.

It had even gotten to the point where she thought she saw apes out of the corner of her eye.

For _three weeks._

_**Apes**_**.**

Not that Valeria had taken notice of the passage of time. Oh no, not at all. She spent those weeks in a complete daze. It was more like an endless hallway of doom that she was forced to shuffle down forever.

If she did notice, however, she would have noted that it had been twenty-four days since her own flesh and blood had delivered her prison sentence, when something had changed.

Something amazing.

Something phenomenal.

Something _miraculous. _

...

Well, not really. It was rather mundane for most wizards, if not a little unorthodox, but to the despondent girl it was like an angel smiled down at her. Quite literally, in fact, but we'll get to that later.

In addition to the usual doom and gloom that day, Valeria had been suffering from a horrible headache. She had spent most of lunch trying to rewire her brain and force herself to actually _listen_ to her mother's nonsensical ramblings. To say the least, Valeria was still having trouble finding the connection between the words "Dumbledore's fingernails", and "the rings of Saturn". The words in between had been lost to what Valeria now calls 'The White Noise Effect'.

Coincidentally, her father had also been attempting to listen in on Victoria's babble, his facial expressions bordering the fine line of concentration and constipation. He had been looking rather green during a slew of sentences in which Valeria had only been able to catch the words "new", and "growth". By the way he puked into his coffee mug and dashed out of the room, she was glad she had missed that particular subject, whatever it was.

In any case, she had been stumbling down the hallway (it was a really _really _bad headache) when she glanced up to find a lady peering down at her. The lady greeted her with a beatific smile when their eyes met, and she seemed so kindly that Valeria found it hard not respond with a smile of her own. It came out looking more like a grimace, but the lady looked very pleased with the attention. Nodding at the woman, Valeria ambled to her door and proceeded with her daily activities of brooding and feeling sorry for herself.

_'If only everyone was as sweet as her... then I'd actually _like_ people.'_

Not that Valeria had always been a pessimistic people-hater, but when one is at their all time low they either tend to want to burn everything and everyone, or isolate themselves completely from the world.

In Valeria's case, it was both.

She had occupied herself with a stylized painting of a remembered quote, having moved all her equipment into her bedchambers for a more... efficient isolation (it was easier to avoid everyone if she limited herself to one room). She was feeling very satisfied with the words while perfecting a curve to one of the letters. It went something like this,

**'Give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, **

**but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life.'**

The four-year-old child was singing these words under her breath while painting, when a thought had struck her, stilling the movement of her hand. It had suddenly occurred to her that she had _not _been strolling the streets and nodding hello to friendly strangers. She had, in fact, been in her hallway.

It took a while, but despite the debilitating headache, Valeria had still been able to string together two premises and a conclusion.

1: Valeria had been walking down her hallway, and not a public street.

2: Valeria had encountered a stranger.

Therefore: There was a stranger in her house.

A stranger.

In the Crabbe family home.

There was a stranger wandering willy-nilly in her home.

"..."

Valeria went a little cross-eyed.

Why in the world was there a stranger in the house? Didn't proper purebloods avoid the Crabbe family as a general rule? They've had literally no guests, barring the one time when she was a baby. She was sure her family didn't get invited anywhere either. The Malfoy's didn't count because it was less of a friendly visit and more of a minion recruiting session. Valeria hadn't even seen the world outside the family gardens for crying out loud, besides her past life of course.

The mini adult dashed to her doors and stumbled while fumbling with the handle, tripping head over heels. She was beginning to wonder if the annoying pitch of Victoria Crabbe's voice could permanently disable one's balance, and if so, become weaponized, when she brushed herself off and looked up.

Oh.

Well... at least there were no _strangers _in her house. The woman looked pleasantly surprised and was still standing there, or rather, _ hanging _there. Not on a noose, mind you, even in her woozy state Valeria would have noticed something _that_ morbid hanging outside of her bedroom. She was hanging within a frame, the precise strokes making the paint within mostly realistic.

The lady was not a lady at all; she was a painting.

"I feel silly now," Valeria muttered and turned back. "You're not a person."

"How rude. I _feel _like a person, so I obviously must be one." The high, clear voice stopped Valeria in her tracks and she spun on her heel.

"You're a conscious portrait," Valeria stated with an appraising look in her eye.

"That I am," the portrait responded primly.

Valeria grunted and examined the painting. The young lady had perfectly styled, wavy black hair, pale skin, and stormy grey eyes that seemed to be inspecting Valeria just as thoroughly. She was poised on a plush chair in a fancy dress, a decorative bowl of fruit placed next to her. _'Or maybe not so decorative,' _Valeria thought to herself, eyeing an apple core partially hidden by the crystal bowl. Altogether, however, she was beautiful and graceful. _'And she has Crabbe colouring. Probably a distant relative, or a long dead ancestress.'_

"I didn't think an inanimate object would count as a person," Valeria mused quietly to herself.

"Technically, I_ am _animate."

"Technically yes, even though your frame isn't going anywhere. But not good enough," Valeria dismissed with a wave of her small hand. "There are plenty of animate objects that are most definitely not people."

"Name some," the portrait challenged.

"The moving suits of armour, changing staircases, and the Sorting Hat," Valeria recalled from her previous knowledge of Hogwarts. The lady narrowed her eyes, a look in the stormy depths that belied something Valeria didn't have time to decipher before it was quickly erased.

"I beg to differ about the Sorting Hat, but point taken," the woman twirled a finger in her hair absently. "I still maintain that I am a person."

"No, you are a copy of a person," Valeria shot up at her. "A container that spews back the knowledge, personality, and memories of a person far away from here. An imprint is what you are."

"That is not all that I am," the woman shot back. "There is more to me than just a duplication and a mass of moving oil paint. First thing you learn is to never underestimate the boundaries of magic."

Valeria's lips twitched upwards. "Are you prepared to defend yourself, then?"

"I'm always ready," came the snarky reply. The elegant lady stuck a pinkie in her ear then blew on the appendage, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees. The very picture of _in_elegance. _'That's my kind of pureblood,' _Valeria thought appreciatively. _'Although that first bit was kind of gross.'_

"This conversation," she began. "Should be proof enough for you that I am a person."

"How so?"

"If I were simply a container for all that was once a person, then this conversation shouldn't even be happening. All I would be doing would be 'spewing back' remembered things and facts in a way that fits with my progenitor's persona. An automated response system, if you will. And yet, here we are. Having a spirited _debate_ on whether or not I really am a person. Why?

"Because, young lady, I have intelligence, a shipload of it I might add. Try as hard as you might, you can't copy intelligence and call it fake."

"Well, there's no denying that," Valeria shrugged. "But that is still not good enough. Intelligence does not a person make. My brother and my mother have no smarts to speak of, are you claiming they are not people?"

"Low intelligence, high intelligence, average intelligence," the lady sighed. "Is still intelligence."

"And _I _am still not convinced."

"I was just starting," the woman raised an eyebrow. "Look at it another way. Have you ever seen a talking portrait of a living person?"

"I've only left the manor once," Valeria supplied dryly.

"There isn't, at least in the twenty-four years this young Crabbe had been alive," the lady ignored her. "And yes, there is a reason why."

"Do tell."

"You can't have two of the same _person_ coexisting in the same universe. Not even magic can violate that natural law. Sure, you can physically become someone through polyjuice potion, or pretend with a spell, or have an identical twin, or paint an image of another and magic it to move, or even create a simple reflection with a mirror. But it's not the same. It's not the essence of the man or woman you are attempting to recreate. The words, 'everyone is unique' aren't just to make people feel better about themselves, you know."

"That's an interesting philosophy you have there."

"Not just an interesting philosophy, it is a fact."

"Some explaining would do wonders right about now."

The woman sighed, "A portrait cannot become a _person _while their progenitor is still alive. You can place the appropriate magic on their image, but it won't work. Not until the originator is dead. It's not well known, but wizards and witches alike have tried to overcome that law and create conscious portraits while their originals were still living and breathing. But the universe just won't allow it. Only in the person's death can the magic ensnare a piece of their... soul, if you will, in the image. A variant of a ghost if you want to think of it like that, and it's generally accepted among wizarding folk that ghosts _are_ people."

_'Like Dumbledore's portrait. Didn't that only appear after his death? But...'_

"Your theory is incorrect," Valeria scoffed, her mind going to Voldemort and his horcruxes. "You can split your soul while you're still alive, can't you?"

The lady's nostril's flared and she narrowed her eyes at the little girl in anger, standing up so swiftly that the oil paint blurred. Valeria involuntarily took a step back.

"Who told you that?" The woman's voice was dangerously soft. "Was it your father? Or was it _him? How dare he?! _When I get my hands on that snake bastard...!"

The woman reached out her hands as if to exit the painting, and for a scary moment, Valeria really thought she would. She could see the pads of her fingers and her palms facing outwards, resting against a- a- a surface of some kind for a second before _pressing into the dimensional fabric _that separated the two. Like an elastic surface, the portrait stretched outwards from the force and created an almost mesmerizing effect with the stretched paint, the colours mixing and the hues changing erratically. Cracks could be heard from the wood of the frame. Valeria gulped and took another step back.

This was something she had never seen or heard of in the _Harry Potter_ books of her past life. Valeria couldn't have even fathomed this blatant violation of dimensional structure.

"... putting dangerous ideas in a _child's _head no less! Oh, there will be _hell _to pay-"

"Wait!" Valeria yelped, the woman was caught by surprise, and the dimensional fabric pushed back. The woman reeled a bit before glaring down at the little girl.

"It wasn't my father, nobody told me," Valeria rushed out in a panic. "It was just a thought I had, that's all. Probably read it somewhere."

The woman stared at her for a few moments before huffing and allowing the tension in her frame- not her body, but the actual frame that held the portrait- to release. She still, however, fixed her with a firm stare. "There are no books on the theory of splitting one's soul, none that any adult wizard can get their hands on at any rate. That is dangerous thinking, Valeria."

"Er, sorry?" She apologised meekly under the force of the oil painted stare.

"Listen carefully. What I said still holds true. The same being cannot coexist with itself in the same universe. When one forcefully divides their soul into seven pieces, for example, it changes them. They're never the same, never again. The spirit becomes twisted and evil, a shadow or a relic of what that person once was. They're not... not the... the same. How do I put this without repeating myself? They're images or reflections. They won't ever truly become their originator, and no two pieces are alike anyhow.

"One may try to cheat death and become immortal by carving up their very essence," she continued gravely. "But they become less than what they were before. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"Good. Now forget you ever had that thought, and forget this conversation."

"Yes ma'am."

"Now let's drop this stupid 'person' farce, shall we," the woman said dryly. "You've had your fun."

Valeria's eyes widened after a moment of processing. "How did you know?"

"Are you _trying_ to insult me," the lady asked incredulously, leaning in. "It was obvious from the beginning. You never disputed that I could feel, had emotions. Instead of saying 'you can talk', you chose the words, 'you're conscious'. Both mean you at least subconsciously accept those to be true. Your points were half-hearted, you could have argued them more than you actually did. Besides, that little... display I had should have convinced you."

"Because something cannot fight against itself, it's very existence. A portrait cannot fight being a portrait, and it certainly can't attempt to exit itself," Valeria finished for her in a daze. "Meaning you're something else entirely, trapped within whatever the heck that dimensional space is."

"Exactly," the woman casually examined her fingernails. "If you actually believed I wasn't a person, you would have walked away and ignored me like most wizards. Shall I go on?"

"No," Valeria stared up at the woman in awe and wonder. This Crabbe lady was a work of art, both figuratively and literally. She's never met anyone this sharp, and it had suddenly occurred to her that this woman was leagues ahead of her in the intellectual department. And the beauty department, to top it off with a cherry.

Where was she all of Valeria's second life?

_'Hanging around in front of my bedroom door,' _Valeria internally berated herself. _'Of course.'_

The little girl snapped to attention in a sad attempt at an elegant bow, "Pardon me, Ms. Crabbe. I am Ms. Crabbe, pleasure to meet you."

"Clever one, aren't you, Ms. Crabbe?" Ms. Crabbe eyed her. "You'd do well in my House. A Ravenclaw if I ever saw one."

"Ravenclaw?" Valeria frowned. "I would have pegged you for a Slytherin. The manor is decked out attic to cellars in green and silver. It looks like our family has never even seen another House member."

"Well don't let it fool you."

"Hm," Valeria hummed. "Whatever. I ain't a Ravenclaw. Hardly studious and definitely not _that _ intelligent."

"Not that intelligent?" Ms. Crabbe barked out a laugh. "You're a four-year-old child and you speak as though you're a grown adult."

Valeria just shrugged. It would have been too troublesome to explain that she had the mind of a nineteen-year-old.

"But if not a Ravenclaw, then Slytherin? You'd fit there too."

"Nah," Valeria grinned lazily. "Hufflepuff. Couldn't be farther from the action."

"Hufflepuff?" Ms. Crabbe repeated. "What action?"

"Oh, you know, the whole Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry," Valeria lied smoothly. The only plot relevant person in Hufflepuff was Cedric Diggory, easy enough to avoid.

"My dear Valeria Crabbe," Ms. Crabbe said consolingly. "I hate to break it you, but you're not hardworking and you're certainly not fair. Can't say I've seen much as far as loyalty goes, considering you have no friends."

"Ouch," Valeria winced. "That breaks my heart. I can be hardworking when I want to be, and who said I wasn't fair?"

"I did."

"Oh, you're just a painting, what do you know about _fair_?"

Ms. Crabbe just gave her a very flat look. Valeria's grinned even wider now and turned back to her doors, throwing a casual talk to you later over her shoulder.

It was only after closing her doors behind her that the little girl realized that the reason why her face felt funny was because she was smiling. Only after finishing her painting did she realize that it was the first time in a while that she hadn't thought of her engagement.

And it was while drifting off to sleep with a soft smile on her face, that Valeria had realized that something amazing was happening, something phenomenal, something _miraculous._

She might have been in the midst of making her first friend.

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A/N: Short, I know, please forgive me, but I wanted to get something out for Christmas. Heavy on the philosophy, eh? Thoughts on Ms. Crabbe? Thoughts on the superduper long conversation? Did it even make sense? I hope it did.

Fair warning, I realized if I don't start skipping time, Valeria's going to go to Hogwarts after chapter 2651375. Next chapter will be a time skip.

I've updated my profile (finally) and you'll see descriptions of the plot lines that besieged me, if anyone's interested in taking a look.

Merry Christmas everyone!

\- Fiction

PS. This will probably seem pathetic, but please please review?


	7. Allen in Wonderland

A/N: Happy New Years everyone! Hope your celebrations were fun.

Just in case you're wondering about the new picture, I decided it was time _Scourgify _had one. The character featured is Vinnie. It was the most flattering picture I could find of him.

To my guest reviewer Marie, thank you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the songs mentioned in the chapter.

No Beta

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**Chapter 7: Allen in Wonderland**

"Valeria, sweetheart, can you come here?"

The girl in question looked up curiously from her current painting of two enormous black dogs, and padded softly over to her mother standing by her door.

"Can I help you, Mother?" It seemed oddly strange that her mother would ask, instead of command.

"Actually, yes," Victoria Crabbe handed her a book. The little girl eyed the blush on her mother's face suspiciously before examining the book. It was a blue, paper-back novel with a handsome, blond wizard dressed in lavish purple robes, standing importantly on the edge of a cliff. The words _Break with a Banshee_ were emblazoned at the top. The title was oddly familiar, but Valeria couldn't figure out why, never mind what her mother was trying to ask her.

"You want me to... read this novel?" She asked, confusion evident in her voice. Her mother beamed down at her, nodded emphatically, and dragged her by the arm to one of the living rooms. She sat down on one of the plush sofas and smiled at her eagerly, looking distinctly like an overexcited, ugly puppy. Valeria stared back at the woman.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Victoria asked impatiently and Valeria blinked at her.

"You want me to read it right now?"

"Of course!"

Valeria muttered to herself and sat next to the woman, flipping open the paperback. She raised a brow at the page before her. _'Gilderoy Lockhart, eh? I see he's already starting his life of fame and fraud. Although I still haven't a clue why Mother wants me reading his books.'_

After a few minutes of silent reading, Valeria heard a forced cough, but decided to ignore it in favour of hurrying up and completing her task. A few more pointed coughs later, and her mother was poking her painfully in the side.

"Ow! What the heck was that for?" She turned to glare at her mother, only to drop the heated look at the sight of a repulsive, puppy dog pout on her mother's face. "What? What did I do?"

Her mother muttered a response under her breath and picked at the fabric of the armrest.

"You'll have to speak louder than that, Mother."

"You're supposed to be reading it _to _me..." She shot the full force of her twisted, revolting pout at her daughter. Valeria stared hard at her mother.

She had been a Crabbe for six years now, and the complete backwards craziness that embodied her family name still managed to catch her unawares. Her mother was, in all seriousness, asking her six-year-old to read her a story. It should have been the other way around!

Although, now that she thought on it, it made much more sense than what she had presumed before. If she recalled correctly, Lockhart's books had garnered a lot of popularity among the witches, and she knew for a fact that her mother couldn't read anything longer than a simple paragraph. Her mother wanted in on what all the witches were raving about, and she could only do that with the help of her daughter. Goodness knows Vinnie couldn't read to save his life, her father was much too busy, and Victoria would never 'stoop so low' as to ask Binky to read to her.

Despite the puppy dog eyes, however, Valeria was still hesitant about reading this book to her mother. For one, it was a book of lies, and despite being forced into living a lie herself, she hated anything to do with dishonesty and harmful manipulation at another's expense. _Especially_ if it hurt them.

Another was that Lockhart would be writing a long line of books, and she knew giving her mother this small treat would drive her to buy the next release, and the ones after that. Valeria didn't want her family to end up supporting Lockhart's fraud and ego by continued purchase of his series, nor did she want her mother's time and affections to be wasted on him. But most of all, even after only fifteen minutes of reading, she could tell it would be _the _most horribly written work she had ever, and will ever, read.

The punctuation itself was horrendous! She could understand a few mistakes; a missing comma here, an extra comma there. But no! She had yet to find one correctly used in this book. There was one comma that she swore she could _hear _it begging for a mercy killing, to either be erased from existence, or burned off completely like an unwanted Black family member. The grammar was weak, and most of the more complicated words weren't even used correctly. The spelling was not to be spoken of, the horror of even attempting to describe it in words was more panic worthy to Valeria, than it was for Professor Quirrel to face down an army of vampires. The real icing on the rotten cake, however, was the content of the story.

Valeria could see the appeal, she really could.

A handsome, charming young wizard facing the odds and saving a helpless village from a monstrous beast. What witch wouldn't enjoy such an adventure? But there was a little too much charm, a little too much hair flipping. His character was too exaggerated, too _perfect_. The villagers were a tad too incapable, a tad too daft. And the women! Oh, the women... They were all too beautiful, too elegant, and way too busty for it to be possibly true. One of them literally _swooned _ as soon as he entered the village. It was as if their only purpose was to feed his narcissistic ego! As a female, Valeria found it absolutely degrading.

It was decided. She was going to flat out refuse and burn every copy of his books that she could find.

"Forgive me, Mother, but I-"

"As a reward for being such a sweet daughter, we could go on a family shopping trip to Diagon Alley! Whatever you want, sweetie."

"- must insist on reading you this book! Right now, in fact! We will finish it before tomorrow! When did you say we were going to Diagon Alley?"

So, it was a bit hypocritical and shameful, but honestly it was _Diagon Alley! _If her father hadn't refused to allow the kids to visit the famed market, Valeria wouldn't even have deigned the thought of subjecting her mother and herself to this. But alas, the tight grip her father had on her and her brother's surroundings was very much real, and Valeria was very much desperate to see the wizarding world. Valeria did have her pride, but even that wasn't worth the chance of visiting Diagon Alley.

Besides, even though Valeria was an artist, she wasn't of the kind that prettily arranged words on parchment. So, the six-year-old adult read the novel with gusto, pausing deliberately before 'exciting' parts, and reciting the dialogue in character.

Victoria _very_ much enjoyed the effort.

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"Ha! Oh _Rowena_, this is too much!"

"I know! And apparently he was sorted into Ravenclaw!"

"Ravenclaw? _Him? _You must be pulling my leg."

"No, really, I'm not. Here," the little girl flipped further into the book. "_The gassy- _think he means 'ghastly'- _banshee was upon me, she had the chance, but didn't scream and finish me off. She lifted me in her arms and make to carry off with me, which compounded me. Then I realized; she was obviously in love with me. No witch can resist my face or my body. It is the same for this banshee- _Oh god, I can't take this, it's too funny_. But I am not into her, and I cannot let her have her way with me. So I retail with a curse and it hits her and she dropped me. She was in pain. She was about to scream, but I used my quick thinking and a spell I learned while in Ravenclaw that stops her. Finally, I vanquished her."_

Valeria gasped while the painting in front of her continued to laugh so hard, she knocked over the bowl of fruit into the next frame. "Ms. Crabbe, look, he just used 'vanquish' correctly!"

"What's wrong with you?" Ms. Crabbe asked while wiping away oily tears.

"What isn't?" Valeria blinked up at the portrait. And blinked. And blinked again, over and over.

"Really, you're blinking far too much."

"Oh. He dispensed completely with comma's and paragraph breaks in this last bit. It's actually painful to read," Valeria squinted down at the page in front of her. "My Lord, I think he switched from third person, to first person, and back again for the hundredth time here."

"Is there nothing redeeming about this book?"

"There really isn't," Valeria shoved the pages at the canvas. "Look, his spelling is trying to wage war with our eyes."

Ms. Crabbe's left eye twitched after a minute. "This writing would be understandable if English were not his first language, and he didn't have access to editors, but he did, didn't he? This is beyond ridiculous!"

"Not even then," the little girl disagreed. "The content is atrocious, I personally think he should chop off his writing hand."

"Remind me again why you read this book?"

"Freedom," Valeria intoned solemnly. "And very nauseating puppy dog eyes."

"Your mother? Ms. Crabbe snorted. "Figures."

Valeria simply shrugged. If Ms. Crabbe wasn't family, she would have exacted revenge in her mother's honour. As it was, the Crabbe's had an unspoken rule that only _family_ can insult and sneer at family. Vinnie and she made fun of their father on a near daily basis, and their mother attempted snide remarks about their distant relatives.

"It was nice though," Ms. Crabbe murmured.

Valeria snapped out of her musings and gave her an incredulous stare. "Are you mad?"

"Not the book," the painting rolled her eyes. "_Reading. _Or the closest thing to it. I haven't touched a book in years, it was... nostalgic. Comforting, even."

"I could read some more decent books to you," Valeria offered up immediately. "Not sure why I hadn't done it before."

"That would be wonderful," Ms. Crabbe beamed.

_'And that is exactly why I go out of my way,' _Valeria thought as she grinned back at Ms. Crabbe's radiant smile. She rarely ever _truly_ smiled; it was nice to see her friend happy.

There was a loud _clanging _behind them.

"Can we help you, Valere?" Ms. Crabbe asked politely. Valeria turned her head to see her father lurking in the shadow of a suit of armour, desperately attempting to reattach a limb to the poor thing. _'How spectacularly creepy.'_

"Hello, Father, what brings you to this side of the Crabbe manor?"

The man cleared his throat, gave up on the impromptu armour surgery, and stared stiffly at his daughter, "Your mother has asked me to inform you that we will be visiting Diagon Alley, next friday at noon. You are to dress in casual, but durable robes. We expect you to behave in a manner befitting a Crabbe lady."

_'So, run around like a maniac shouting about the horrendous tails that muggles possess?' _Valeria thought derisively as she responded in the affirmative. She expected him to make a speedy getaway, but he remained there, almost glaring at her in frustration.

"How did you do it?" He demanded after a moment.

"Do what?"

"Convince your mother."

"Ah," Ms. Crabbe gestured to the forgotten book. "Her mother asked her to read this to her. She loved it, apparently."

"Read this book?" He addressed his daughter, looking a little pale while examining the front. "Is it any good?"

"Oh yes, it really engages the mind," Valeria replied smoothly while Ms. Crabbe muffled a snort. "Makes you analyze nearly every word."

"Truly?" He looked at it with more interest.

"Without a doubt. Fair warning, you'd best be on your guard around Mother now. She may try and 'lift you up in her arms', and 'have her way with you'," Valeria cackled at his retching, her laughter swiftly turning into gagging noises, alongside Ms. Crabbe's and her father's at the images her words provoked.

"Merlin, that was disgusting," the painting gagged. "Wasn't it, Valere?"

The man paled even more and quickly escaped down the hall, pace quickening at the lazy goodbye Ms. Crabbe sent his way. Valeria tilted her head contemplatively at the empty space he occupied a second ago, before looking to the portrait in confusion.

"Why is he so afraid to look at you?"

Ms. Crabbe simply smirked devilishly and said, "I was a very annoying portrait back in the day."

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Finally.

Finally, finally, finally, _finally, finally, __**finally**__! _

That was all that went through Valeria's mind as her family stood in front of their fireplace reserved for the Floo. Her mother was humming to herself, her father was twitching, and Vinnie was quietly complaining about how Draco and the Ape weren't coming with them.

Valeria was trembling with excitement before the hearth, nodding absently to Valere's warning to behave. They were going to _Diagon Alley! _It was no Hogwarts, that was for sure, but it was the closest thing to a fairy tale adventure. New, uncharted territories! Lost texts and scrolls to be discovered and read! Mysterious items and artefacts waiting to be discovered! Magical foods and sweets to be sampled! Strange creatures to be tamed! All available for purchase in the biggest wizarding centre in London, save for the damsels in distress and evil villains. Well, maybe not the evil villains. She was travelling with a few of them, after all.

Valeria was effectively deaf to everything around her in her excitement. Her father threw in the Floo powder, the flames roared a vibrant emerald, and the Crabbes stepped into the fire as one.

One could suppose her excitement was why their destination took her by surprise. And by surprise, it was really more like someone had taken a frozen catfish and beaten her senseless with it.

The Crabbes had stepped out into a dim, and very dusty shop. Now, Valeria wouldn't have minded an antique shop; that only meant older and more fascinating items to explore and examine. _This _shop, however, had a more... morbid assortment than what the little reincarnation had been expecting. Appalling masks hung from every wall, blood stained objects were displayed proudly in glass cases, and human bones littered the tabletops and counters. And there, nestled comfortably on a violet cushion, was a withered Hand of Glory. Valeria recognized the Dark object.

_'We're in Bogey and Burkes.'_

"Good afternoon, Mr. Borgin," Valeria's father nodded apathetically at the shopkeeper.

_'Borgin, bogey, same difference,' _Valeria shivered and inched closer to her twin brother, quietly grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly. Their mother was examining the items and still hummed to herself, their father carrying on a sneering contest with Mr. Borgin. Vinnie was content to just stand there blankly, serving as a wall for his younger twin sister.

Valeria supposed she could have been a little more collected than the bag of shivering bones she was currently impersonating, but the shop had an... oppressive feel to it. If she could liken it to an image, Valeria would have described a ring of tall and imposing cloaked figures surrounding her, leering and whispering evil things in her head. She almost felt a little violated standing there in that dank shop.

"Mother," she squeaked out. "This _isn't _Diagon Alley."

"Oh, you're quite right, dear," the woman continued to examine a set of mouldy toenails. "We're in Knockturn Alley."

"And what, pray tell, are we doing _here?_"

"Well, I'm glad you asked," she turned around and beamed at her children. "I believe it's time you two start getting used to Dark objects, and the Darker side of the wizarding world."

"What?!" Valeria squeaked louder.

"And we'll be taking a small detour through Knockturn Alley every time we visit Diagon Alley!" She continued on happily. "Oh, look at you two. It's wonderful to see you both so excited!"

Vinnie was, as per usual, staring indifferently at a fixed point in space, and Valeria was, quite literally, quaking in her slippers. _'What part of _this_ looks 'excited' to you, you mad woman!'_

"Time to go," Valere announced, and Valeria sagged with relief. "A walk through Knockturn, then we'll be off."

Valeria whimpered at that, clung onto her twin tightly, and followed the rest of the Crabbes out of the shop. To her right, she could see the exit onto the bright streets of Diagon Alley. To her left, the alleyway went deeper into Knockturn, deeper into the shadows despite the noon light shining high above them. Against her better judgement, they ventured further into the darkness.

The people there were _mean._

A lady she swore she recognized from one of the movies offered them a tray of fingernails, black with rot. She grinned toothily at Valeria- or rather un-toothily considering she had no teeth- and the little girl squeaked in response. An old man with a strangely green eye openly stared at her, causing her nerves to go further over the edge. An important looking man sneered down at her, muttering about ill-bred little weaklings. A group of old hags glared at her, mean whispers reaching her ears about _such a disgraceful family_. Malice was rife in the air.

Valeria's heart pounded.

They _all _glared, sneered, stared, smirked, leered, whispered- anything that made her even slightly uncomfortable. Even worse were the objects they carried, sold, bartered. Some were intimidating, some were subtle. Most were dangerous, little were harmless. A few even beckoned to her. All, however, whispered to her, and _all _frightened her.

Who wouldn't be? That cursed teddy bear over there was speaking softly in her ear about how wonderful it would be to savagely tear a person's fingers off, and oh would you just come here and _play _with me? And look at that stuffed cat head over yonder. It wanted to _kiss _her.

"Children!" Victoria gestured for them to come closer to a particularly nasty looking stall. "Would you just look at these!"

Vinnie, being the obedient brick that he was, moved to the display, almost dragging Valeria along behind him had she not let go. Her hands shook and she hunched in on herself, the flimsy protection her brother provided now gone. She could feel tears gathering in her eyes, and she was on the verge of her first crying fit in almost five years.

A stark contrast from her expectations for this trip. She should be enjoying ice cream at Florean Fortescue's now. Not here. Not next to _Innards and Other Human Remains. _

The tears were spilling over, when Valeria heard a sigh and a hand ruffle through her hair. She peeked up, her father's tired face peering down at her.

A surge of indignance coursed through her body.

How _dare _he? Bringing his children to such places, subjecting them to Dark influences. They could easily go mad, their curiosity driving them to pick up and touch and play with whatever they came across. Allowing these people to pick at and criticize them with their looks and whispers. Obliterating whatever shred of innocence they had left. This place was _scary_.

So how _dare _he look at her with such _disappointment _in his eyes.

What did he expect, an impervious child?

A flawless mask?

Perhaps a sneer, disdain even?

Valeria glared at him, her nostrils flaring. She took in his straight posture, his unaffected expression. She looked at her mother and brother, examined the woman's oblivious smile and the blank indifference of the boy's eyes. They were all walking about as if they owned the place.

_'Screw that.' _

Screw shielding herself with ignorance, dimwit, or a practiced mask.

Screw a shield, _period_.

Valeria wasn't going to hide. She wasn't a coward. She wasn't going to let these pureblood traditions of blank masks, thinly veiled insults, and scorn affect her. She wasn't going to conform to their expectations. Like _hell_ she was going to let them frighten her.

Do the good folk know what dangerous thing Valeria was going to do?

She was going to wear an open expression.

Let them see her fear.

Let them eye her sadness.

Let them witness her anger.

They couldn't touch her. She be _damned _if she was going to let them attack her with her own _emotions_.

Screw ignorance.

Screw idiocy.

Screw masks.

Screw pureblood tradition.

_'And screw these stupid, racist purebloods!'_

Valeria was going to charge in, guns blazing.

With those convictions settled in her heart, Valeria gave a mighty stomp on her poor father's foot as she strolled over to her brother and mother.

Head held high, glare fierce, pincers snapping dangerously, and prouder than any Crabbe.

* * *

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* * *

After finally leaving Knockturn Alley (Valeria _owned _that place), and their mother successfully withdrew gold from Gringotts, the Crabbes were off to explore the sunnier face of the magical realm.

Valeria and Vinnie had immediately disagreed on where to go first. The bigger twin wanted to go to the Quidditch supply shop, and the littler one was adamantly refusing on the grounds of a still lingering trauma of a past flying mishap. Ten minutes later, Valeria and her father were wandering around, their counterparts ambling to their own preferred stores.

Diagon Alley was... spectacular! Brightly coloured buildings and shops, eccentric wizard folk, mystifying items and treats. Valeria couldn't have asked for more.

But look! There it was! The long awaited moment. The long awaited store.

_Flourish and Blotts!_

Books! Books _everywhere! _Books stacked in bookcases, books piled upon more books, books peeking behind books that were peeking around corners, book mountains, flying books, twitching books, smelly books, colourful books...

"... Screaming books, oh look over there, it's a bloody book, and- _by god, is that a porno section?!"_

The rather sketchy looking young man startled at the yelp, and pulled the curtain shut, displaying a sign that read, 'Adults Only'.

"Valeria," her father cleared his throat after glaring at the curtain, and looked her straight in the eye. "Do not _ever_ venture near that curtain or that young man. Those are despicable influences, and I do not want you near them."

"Oh, come off it," she snorted. "I know you secretly want to check out that section."

Leaving behind the spluttering man, she delved deeper in the shop, effectively losing him in the chaos of the shop. It wasn't a particularly difficult feat; the layout was chaotic and she was pretty sure the bookcases moved around.

_'Now, where is the Magical Beasts Section?' _Valeria mused to herself as she wandered around blindly. Through some kind of luck- that Valeria was highly suspicious of seeing as she _had _no luck to begin with- she happened upon her desired section a few minutes into her aimless walking. Her eyes positively lit up.

The section appeared huge, appropriately so considering the countless amount of magical creatures running amok in the world, and there was but a single teenage boy examining the available titles. Valeria scanned the spines of the books intently, lost to the world, when she spotted a particularly interesting title, _The Complete Encyclopaedia of Dragons. _Squealing excitedly, she reached out her small hand and grabbed the book a second before a pale, freckled one could. There was disgruntled sigh, but the little girl largely ignored it in favour of flipping through the book's pages.

Valeria stopped flipping at a page that triggered an old memory, older than the six-year-old body she currently inhabited.

-_"Accio Firebolt!" Harry screamed, pointing his wand towards the castle as he dodged another fireball and hid behind a large outcropping of rock. The great big scaly beast reared up and breathed flames into the sky. It's black scales shone along with the spikes on its back, it's yellow eyes narrowed in fury._

_"You think they'd let me keep it as a pet?" My sister whispered from the seat next to me, eyes sparkling and the light from the theatre screen casting her face in an unearthly glow-_

The Hungarian Horntail's moving portrait in the encyclopaedia was exactly the same as in the movie; angry and fire-breathing. Valeria shook her head dazedly, and read more on the beast that the Boy Who Lived would be facing down eight years time. It was truly a magnificent creature, Valeria thought while smiling softly to herself.

It was around that moment that she became aware of an annoying breathing sound, from next to and just behind her. The boy from before was reading over her shoulder, not even trying to be inconspicuous about it, and was practically breathing in her ear. She rolled her eyes and flipped to the next page, hoping he'd move on. On the contrary, he grumbled and leaned in, clearly not having finished the page she had skipped. His shadow blocked her light.

"Do you need something?" Valeria snapped angrily, shutting the book and swiftly turning to glare up at the teenager. She was mildly surprised to see flaming red hair, freckled skin, and sheepish brown eyes, only having noticed it now. This wasn't who she thought he was, was he...?

"Not exactly," the boy scratched the back of his head. "Just really wanted to read that book."

"Why don't you pick out your own then? I'm sure there's plenty," she pointed out, her anger dying down in the face of another animal enthusiast.

"That's the last one," he sighed, looking depressed. Valeria was uncomfortable with the guilt rising at such obvious misery.

"Well..." Valeria shifted nervously on her spot, and held out the book. "I suppose I could let you buy it yourself. I've got a lot of other books I want to read anyhow."

If possible, the boy looked even more dejected. "Can't. Not enough allowance. Mum actually sent me here to buy a book she wanted."

If the flaming hair and love of dragons was any indication, the tight budget practically sealed the deal. Valeria was almost sure the boy in front of her was Charlie Weasley, second eldest brother to Ron Weasley. He was clearly a Plot Relevant Character, the equivalent to her as the Black Plague, but she couldn't bring herself to avoid him in the face of those puppy dog eyes. Just like with Victoria's uglier version of the persuasion tactic, Valeria couldn't resist indulging the older boy.

"I'll make you a deal then," she spoke up pompously. "You carry all the books I pick out, and I'll lend you this book after I finish reading it."

He blinked at her, surprised. "What? Really? How many books are you planning on getting?"

"More than I can carry," the girl shrugged nonchalantly and held out a small hand. "What do you say?"

"We have a deal," the boy grinned and shook her hand. "Name's Charlie, by the way. Charlie Weasley."

"Valeria," the girl grinned back. "Pleasure."

"No last name?" He enquired curiously.

"I do have one, actually," Valeria admitted. "But I'd rather I didn't at all."

"Why not?" Charlie asked, perplexed.

"Obviously," she began seriously. "Because it's more mysterious that way. Like Madonna."

"Madonna?"

"Ever listened to Madonna's _Like a Virgin_, or _Material Girl_?"

"No."

"Good. They're terrible songs."

He laughed, "So, mysterious like this Madonna?"

"Like Madonna," Valeria agreed. "Only I'm much cooler."

"Obviously," he played along with the little girl's antics.

"You catch on pretty quick, my dear sidekick," Valeria grinned at his bemused expression and turned around to examine the shelves again. She quickly selected five more books, three of which were solely on dragons.

"You really like dragons, huh? Oof," he gave a huff as Valeria _shoved _the books at him. "I've got a sister around your age and all she cares about are those storybooks about the Boy Who Lived."

Valeria raised an eyebrow at that. She had forgotten about the youngest Weasley's obsession with Harry Potter. It was a scary thought, forgetting little plot points as the years went by. Sooner or later, she might forget something important. Valeria would have to remedy that.

"Don't compare me to any six-year-old," Valeria scoffed. "I'm much older than you, for your information."

"Is that so," he looked at her, bemused once again. Valeria nodded and set off walking towards another section.

"That's right," the little girl said seriously. "If you count my six years in this life, nineteen in the other one, I should be... what? Ten years older than you?"

"Eleven," he corrected automatically, eyeing her. "Although I wouldn't just add them up like that. Six extra years as a kid doesn't exactly make you a twenty-five-year-old adult."

"I suppose, yes," Valeria agreed a little sadly. "I don't feel twenty-five, nineteen, or six at all. I'm lost in limbo and I have no idea who I am."

"Well, having no last name can do that to a person," Charlie added gravely, before his face cracked and he burst out laughing. "Sorry, I just can't. A past life? You're a funny kid. Quite the jokester."

"That I am," Valeria smiled. "But, yes. I do love dragons. Never met one, but I intend to have one as a pet someday."

"_Pfft. _A pet?" Charlie chuckled, his voice sounding distant to Valeria's ears. "You think you could tame such a magnificent beast?"

\- _I looked at my sister and resisted a chuckle for the sake of our fellow movie watchers, the sounds of Harry's crash as he evaded the dragon on his broom in the background. I whispered back to her, "A pet? You think you can tame _that_ creature?"_

_My sister grinned at me, opened her mouth, and whispered, "Of course-_

"- It's just like a fire-breathing dog, ain't it? Should be easy as pie."

Charlie laughed once again, harder than before, his peals of laughter echoing with the memory of her own from so long ago.

"You know, I had my doubts about you being a normal six-year old," he said after he finally got control of himself. "But those doubts have been cleared now; you're definitely a fool brat."

"Har har, Mr. Weasley, you are _hilarious_," Valeria monotoned, rolling her eyes. "You shouldn't talk to your elders like that. Show some respect."

He snorted, "I could say the same to you."

They continued to bicker back and forth, Valeria selecting books in between and piling them up in Charlie's arms, and before long they were up to his face.

"Is this the last of them then?"

"Definitely not," Valeria shot immediately. "That joke was in poor taste."

Charlie groaned, "Are your parents even going to let you buy this much?"

"Of course," she replied. "Mother loves to spoil, and Father only knows how to show his affection through material objects."

"That," Charlie said. "Is kind of sad."

He attempted to shift the weight in his arms, but stopped when he eyed a particular set of books on display around the pile that was already in his face. "Oh, great, could you grab me one of those? It's the one my mum wanted."

Valeria obliged and picked up one of the books- and did a double take at the book she was currently holding. It was a blue novel with an important looking wizard clad in purple robes, the words _Break with a Banshee _jumping out at her face. 'New Edition' was scrawled directly beneath them.

Mildly curious and repulsed, Valeria flipped open the new edition and snorted at the text she saw inside. It was the same as the older one, only this time they seem to have been able to afford an editor. A very patient and amazing one at that.

It was no wonder they release a new one, really. She found it hard to imagine that Hermione would come to admire such an idiot through his awful writing, let alone see Dumbledore agreeing to hire this man as a professor.

"This is a horrible book," Valeria warned her sidekick. "My mother had me read to her, and the whole thing was absolutely atrocious."

"Well I'm not the one who wanted it," he shrugged, almost dropping a giant tome on English wizarding law, and grimaced. "Do you even need such a huge tome on _wizarding law?_"

"Yes," she said dismissively and added Lockhart's book to the pile. "I'm trapped in an engagement agreement with an ape. I'm looking for ways to break it before I go to Hogwarts."

"I'm pretty sure you can refuse it when you're of age," he pointed out.

"Yes, I can, but _I am engaged to an ape,_" Valeria stressed. "Every minute of it is positively sickening."

"I doubt he's an actually ape," he said dryly.

"There are only minute differences between him and the primates."

"Alright, alright. Point taken," he grumbled. "What happens if your family forces you into marrying him then? Aren't uppity purebloods uptight about those sorts of things?"

Valeria eyed him for the uppity pureblood comment. She didn't let on about her family status, but evidently he had puzzled it out for himself. He was sharper than he looked.

"I don't know. If worst comes to worst, I'll probably elope with another man. Preferably a half-blood or a muggleborn... or even just a muggle. Excellent way to stick it to their faces," she mused to herself, before looking up at him with a grin. "Would you run away with me? Rescue the damsel in distress from the horrible marriage of doom?"

"No can do," he chortled. "I'm a pureblood, they wouldn't be offended quite enough."

"Nonsense," she joked with him. "I'm sure a blood traitor would be equally as bad in their eyes."

"How did you-" he spluttered for a moment before shaking his head. "Never mind. Can we hurry this up? I can't feel my arms."

* * *

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* * *

"Oh, look. There's my father," Valeria pointed at the frazzled man over by the Herbology Section. "Doesn't he look so _pathetic_? Wandering around like a confused, lost little puppy."

Charlie gave her a strange look from behind the corner of a book, "You're a little frightening for a six-year-old, you know that?"

Her sidekick managed to get a good look at her father, "Oh hey! It's the Rune Guy!"

"Ruin guy?" Valeria asked slowly.

"Rune Guy," Charlie corrected. "He invents runic circles, or arrays or something, designed to mimic the effects of real spells without the wandwork. My dad said his sister came up with it, your aunt I mean. Everyone says he's crazy though, because it takes a lot more time and effort to accomplish. Why go through all that trouble when you could just say a few words with the same results? I'm pretty sure he's the _only one_ in his department."

Valeria took a moment to process this onslaught of information, "You sure it wasn't my father's aunt? I don't have one."

"Really?" He asked, surprised. "I was sure it was a sister."

The little girl shrugged and let the issue drop, "Let's go, I think we're done here. I'll owl you when I'm finished with the encyclopaedia and send it over."

"To the Burrow, thanks," he informed her uselessly. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"No, no. Thank you," she said with mock politeness before heading over to her father. "Hello, Father. What brings you to this side of _Flourish and Blotts_?"

The man jumped, turned around and grabbed her shoulders frantically, "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!"

"Where did you think?" She raised an eyebrow and pointed a thumb over her shoulder at Charlie. "And you've been looking in a shop for _two hours_ and you only _just _found me?"

He ignored her sarcasm and eyed her sidekick suspiciously, "And who's this?"

"Charlie Weasley," the boy in questioned answered, voice muffled from the books in front of his face. "Nice to meet you, sir."

"Weasley?" The man looked alarmed. _'Not as alarmed as I was though.'_

"That a problem? Would you have preferred I chat up that one instead?" Valeria pointed another thumb at the sketchy young man from before with the... questionable hobby, who blushed at the comment and scurried off. Valere turned a little green.

"No, no. This is just fine," he gulped, before eyeing Charlie sympathetically. "She roped you into carrying all her books, did she?"

"That she did, sir," the boy replied jovially.

"Yes," Valere sighed. "My little Valeria can be very persuasive."

"_Your little Valeria!?_" The girl in question yelled, indignant. Both of them ignored her, Valere carefully moving the pile of books into his arms and Charlie removing his mum's book.

"See you around, Valeria," Charlie waved goodbye. "Was fun, albeit a bit painful."

Valeria waved back at the retreating figure of the boy before turning to glare up at her father, who was desperately trying to balance the books. He managed to levitate a few of them.

"Oh, Father, here. Let me help you," she immediately took the smallest and lightest book, which happened to be a short collection of dragon fairytales. Her father looked down amusedly at her and the small book. He reached out, ruffling his hand in her dark hair for the second time that day. She smiled sweetly at him, before quickly escaping his hand and vehemently stomping on the same foot as before, walking away towards the exit. He choked, trying very hard to steady the now unbalanced pile of books in his arms.

"Try not to drop them, I'd hate for my books to get damaged," Valeria called over her shoulder, holding up her small book for the clerk who was ringing up Charlie's purchase to see. "Hey, Clerk! My father'll be paying for this one too!"

The clerk simply looked bored, Charlie amused, and her father in pain. Smirking to herself, Valeria walked out of the shop into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. She was continuing on her way, about to flip through her book again, when she spotted a sad sight near the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

Valeria sighed to herself, and walked over to help out the very lost looking boy

* * *

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* * *

Allen looked around himself in wonder.

He wasn't exactly sure how he got there. One minute he was walking home from school, tripping, falling through a hole, and the next he was walking through this amazing place.

Which wasn't just an amazing place, the little boy soon began to realize. It was a _magical _place!

He wondered if he was still in London, because no place in his city looked _quite _like this. Mismatched, crazy, colourful shops lined the streets, people in _robes _that looked like _witches _and _warlocks_ stirred around him, talking loudly about _strange _and _magical _things.

The boy had been walking around without direction, enthralled with his surroundings. He was standing in front of a particularly dark looking alley, when a hand grabbed his own and quickly dragged him past it.

Amazed, he looked to see a girl around his age _in one of those robes, _eyeing him with calculation behind her grey eyes. She had a pointy face, stringy black hair, and a slightly upturned nose. The girl raised a brow.

"Muggles should be more careful around here, especially near Knockturn Alley," she scolded him lightly. "C'mon. You've got an older brother or sister who was accepted into Hogwarts, right? I'll help you find your family."

"Muggles?" Allen asked excitedly, eyes sparkling. "Knockturn Alley? Hogwarts? What are those?"

The girl stared at him, "Surely you can't be that daft? How did you miss all of that in the excitement of your sibling's acceptance?"

"Don't have any siblings," he chirped happily. "What's a muggle?"

"Then- How did you get here?" She pressed on, confused, and ignored his own question.

"I fell through a hole and ended up here," he replied. "Say, is this Wonderland? That would be fantastic, Allen in Wonderland!"

The girl, however, did not look like she thought it was fantastic. Instead, her face paled drastically and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. She looked hysterically to the dark alley and around them, grabbed his hand again, and dashed off like a bat out of hell.

"Hey! Where are we going?"

"Shh!" She shushed him and hissed. "Be quiet! Don't you understand, _you're in danger here!_"

"What?"

They pushed through the crowds, racing towards an unknown location. The girl looked as though she was running from Death himself. Finally, they raced through an archway and into a tiny, empty courtyard, almost smacking into the brick wall before them.

"This is just a wall, what are we doing here?" He asked loudly while the girl counted bricks. "Oooh! This is a magic wall, isn't it?

"Shut up, damsel," she hissed at him again when she lost count.

"I'm a _boy_."

"Sure you are, Alice," she said absently as she started counting again.

"My name is _Allen_."

She didn't seem to hear him, however, because it looked like she had found the right brick. With a triumphant 'Aha!' she brandished her forefinger and poked the nondescript, red brick.

Nothing happened.

She poked it again. Still, nothing happened.

"I don't have a wand," she whispered, her voice becoming increasingly hysterical. "I don't have a _wand! _What am I supposed to _do?!_"

She poked frantically at the brick, before slamming the side of her small fist at it repeatedly.

"Open up!"

The girl was on the verge of tears, panting from her mounting panic, and clawing at her hair- the book in her hand tangling with the strands. A red spark fizzed in front of the both of them, their eyes widening.

"Wow," he whispered, awed, eyes sparkling again. "That was amazing. Can you do that again?"

Valeria's mouth popped open, then widened into a mad grin, "Oh, yes I can!"

She clenched her fists again and screwed her eyes shut, a look of sheer concentration on her face. The paperback book she carried bent horribly.

Another red spark popped into existence, and Allen reached out to catch it with his hands. It was warm and ticklish. Several more sparks burst around them, until finally one of them hit the desired brick. It moved into the wall of its own accord, and the bricks around it moving in unison, forming another archway into an identical courtyard. The only difference was a wooden door on the other side.

"Wow!" Allen shouted while the girl took a moment to breathe. Next second, he found himself being pulled once again, through the door, straight through a pub with a couple of curious eyes, and out onto the streets of London.

"Now that," Allen yelled in her ear excitedly. "Was an adventure! That was incredible!"

The girl flinched and considered the boy in front of her, "Should I have one of the wizards inside Obliviate you?"

"Obliviate?" He asked. "Is that fun?"

"No," she shook her head. "That could be too harmful for a child like you."

"Hey! We're the same age!"

"Yes, of course we are, little damsel in distress."

"I'm a boy."

"Sure, sure," she mocked tiredly, wincing down at the ravaged book in her hand. "Oh, no. I ruined it."

"Is that a book about dragons?" Allen beamed at the book of fairytales. "Are they real? They're real aren't they? And so's magic! Isn't that spectacular? Do you think I could get a dragon? Are they like pets? Like a cat, only it breathes fire!"

The girl blinked at him, overwhelmed, before she stared with a sad look in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"Are you alright?" Allen asked a little worriedly.

"I- yes, you just... just remind me of someone I knew from a long time ago," the girl suddenly looked so tired and so old for her age.

"Oh," he said before leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper. "Are they... you know... _dead?_"

"Not exactly," the girl smiled softly for a second at his childish forwardness. "Someone else close to her passed away, and because of that I can never see her or her sisters again. I wonder how they're doing right now..."

"That's silly," the boy said. "If you're worried and you want to go see her, then go. Besides, even if you really can't see her again, at least you're still friends, no matter how far away you are. When my gran died, my mum cried lots, but she said it was okay because people who are lost to you will always be with you. In your memory, or your heart, or your dreams, or the things you do or say, there's a little part of them that will never leave you."

The boy finished quoting, and the girl blinked at him.

"The wisdom of children, eh?" She muttered and gave a short chuckle. "Thank you."

"No problem," he grinned, deciding not to mention he didn't really understand half of what he said.

"You're half right though," she said teasingly. "They're more like fire-breathing dogs, than cats."

"Really? Oh boy, I want a dragon!" They boy shouted excitedly. "Wait 'till I tell my mum, she's going to _freak_!"

The girl frowned at him, "You can't tell anyone about what you saw today."

"Why not?" He asked sadly.

"Well, magic is..." She began slowly before her eyes shone. "Magic is a little shy. If you tell anyone about it, it'll... Poof! Hide and disappear completely!"

The boys eyes widened and he whispered, "No. I can't tell _anyone? _Not even mum?"

"Not a soul," the girl shook her head sagely and continued dramatically. "You can't even _suggest _magic is real, or you'll never see it again!"

Allen gasped.

"So you won't say anything?" She asked a little worriedly. Allen shook his head slowly, eyes wide.

"Do you know how to get home from here?"

The boy nodded.

"Good, because I'd be just as lost as you are," with that, the girl turned as if to leave, and the boy immediately latched onto her arm.

"Wait!" He shouted. "Can we be friends?"

The girl shrugged and said before leaving again, "Sure, I suppose."

"Hey, wait a second!" Allen shouted again, a little frustrated. He pulled a pencil and a scrap of paper out of his schoolbag, scribbled his address down, and shoved it into her hand. "Come visit me."

The girl hesitated, conflicted, before a corner of her mouth lifted, "Okay."

The boy watched as she walked back towards the pub doors, wondering if she was actually going to keep her word. It had suddenly occurred to him that she hadn't given her name. The girl turned around waved, and shouted at him.

"See you later, Alice!"

The boy blinked as the doors closed behind the girl, the pub slowly shrinking between the two buildings next to it, disappearing from sight.

"My name is Allen!"

* * *

(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

* * *

Valeria was humming, content, as she walked back to her bed chambers.

"So," a voice inquired, halting her in her steps. "How was it?"

Valeria turned to greet Ms. Crabbe with a nod and replied nonchalantly, "Oh, you know. Vanquished evil villains, discovered ancient texts and treasures along with my new trusty sidekick, rescued damsels in distress, had a heart warming ending scene. The usual."

The portrait raised an eyebrow. "Of course, what else could happen on a shopping trip? But did you say you rescued a _damsel?_"

"Yes, I think she fell through a rip in time and space, or something," Valeria frowned. "It was quite shocking actually."

Ms. Crabbe narrowed her eyes, "I can't tell if you're serious or not."

"Perfectly serious."

"Huh," the portrait leaned back in her chair. "Sounds like you really had that adventure you've been craving. It was fun though, right?"

"Not at first," Valeria admitted, her face darkening. "My stupid father! He took us through _Knockturn Alley! _Us, children! Mother doesn't know what she's doing half the time, but _he _should know better."

"Valeria," Ms. Crabbe said sternly. "Your father is not a bad man, you can't keep judging him unfairly like this."

Valeria was taken aback at the out of place scolding. She glared at the painting, "Ms. Crabbe. He's a _Death Eater_."

"_Was_, Valeria," the portrait looked weary. " He _was _a Death Eater. Not anymore."

"He's done terrible things. Killed even."

"Yes. Yes he has," she replied sadly. "But that is in the past, and he regrets it all terribly. You'll have to forgive him some day, Valeria."

"If he truly regrets, then he'd have convinced Mother not to take us to that dank, evil alley," Valeria growled.

"But wasn't he doing that already?" Ms. Crabbe argued. "He did his best keeping you two away from the markets. There are some things your father cannot argue with your mother. He was just doing his best to protect you."

Valeria opened her mouth to argue back, but she had no words. She closed it when she remembered her fear in Knockturn, Vinnie walking away from her, hunching in on herself, then her father's warm hand gently laid on her head, his eyes, the look of disappointment in his eyes...

Was that disappointment in her, or someone else?

Valeria gulped, and shifted uncomfortably, unable to handle it all. She looked everywhere except at Ms. Crabbe's concerned gaze, when her eyes landed on the neighbouring painting.

"You still haven't picked up your bowl of fruit from the next painting?" She forced a laugh. "Honestly, you're laziness transcends even mine. I don't think I've ever seen you out of your own frame. You should pick it up before someone else claims it."

Ms. Crabbe smiled sadly and looked away, "Of course."

With that, Valeria hastily said goodnight and fled into her chambers, throwing herself onto her bed and taking a nap before dinner time.

Was that disappointment in his eyes, or something else?

* * *

(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

* * *

A/N: ... And yet another OC. I wonder if we'll ever see Allen again? I had already planned for the Knockturn Alley scene to end as a heartwarming scene where Valeria follows her father's example, but her character just wouldn't let me.

If anyone's interested about the 'traumatic broom incident' Valeria was bemoaning, you'll read about it next chapter. This one was just **too** long

This chapter is, yet again, the longest yet. Trying to fit all of my planned scenes in just a few chapters is taxing.

Seriously hoping all the crap Valeria raged on about Lockhart's writing doesn't appear in my own. That would be horribly embarrassing.

Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.

Remember to review! I love them so much.

-Fiction.

**Preview of Next Chapter **(Because why not?)

"Ah, yes," he sneered down at her. "Here's our little Dark Lord protege. The terrorizing is coming along splendidly, I assume?"

She froze and gulped audibly. He knew. She didn't know how, but he knew what she did.


	8. Yet Again, Even More Twins

A/N: So this is late. It's really not my fault though, this chapter did _not _want to be written. The next one really really wanted to be though, so this'll be a double update!

To the guest reviewer, Guest: Why thank you very much. I do try and keep an eye out to make sure Valeria doesn't turn into a Mary-Sue. Pointing out that discrepancy was much appreciated though, I'll do my best smooth it out. Do enjoy the story, I'd much rather you readers lose yourselves in _Scourgify_. It's the best way to enjoy a story in my opinion. Toodles.

**WARNING: **A few swears and a potential tearjerker. Writing one of these scenes was like having the characters jump out of the screen and forcefully drag the tears from my tear ducts. Was that too graphic? Oh, yes, there might be a little graphicness. Not too much, mind, this _is _rated T after all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

No Beta

* * *

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* * *

**Chapter 8: Yet Again, Even More Twins**

"Say, just out of curiosity, how would a muggle girl who tripped and fell into a hole, end up in Diagon Alley?"

The portrait raised her painted brows at the abrupt question. Valeria had been in the middle of reading her a tantalizing tale of a dragon mistress that Charlie had recommended to her. It was a rather obscure novel that not even Flourish and Blotts carried, and she ended up having to ask him to send her his copy in exchange for an equally obscure book that went out of print ages ago.

Two years ago, after her first trip to Diagon Alley- and by extension, Knockturn Alley- Valeria had woken up to find the painted bowl of fruit back in its rightful place, along with its owner equally as willing as Valeria to talk about last night's argument- as in, not at all.

With an unspoken agreement to pretend nothing had happened, Ms. Crabbe and Valeria went about business as usual, with the added habit of reading books aloud for the portrait's benefit. This included never talking about the _other _events that happened on that trip, for fear of the forbidden topic's revival.

Valeria had been keeping busy the last couple of years reading and buying new books, going on play dates with- unfortunately- the Unholy Trio, writing down everything she knew of the Harry Potter series in a few hidden notebooks, and exchanging letters with Charlie. She hadn't expected him to send a friendly letter after reading and returning her encyclopaedia, and she certainly hadn't expected to send one _back_. Their letters didn't go beyond their usual hardcore fangirling of dragons, and they didn't ask each other personal or social questions, something Valeria was immensely grateful for. She didn't want to involve herself any more than she had to with Plot Relevant Characters.

Her behaviour towards her father shifted erratically between giving him the cold shoulder, constantly berating him, and asking loaded questions to ascertain his moral and political views. It was a harrowing experience for the rather meek father, and Valeria had taken particular glee in making it so.

The eight-year-old reincarnation had taken precautions with her 'note taking', writing in vague sentences, and buying the expensive notebooks that only revealed the content to the writer herself- a strange variant of the notebook Horcrux that will open the Chamber of Secrets in her second year. Valeria would ask the notebook about a particular event, and the appropriate passages would float up in her handwriting. She personally thought it was a neat trick.

In any case, over the period of time it took to get to this moment, Valeria had slowly been able to let the argument go, and thus felt comfortable mentioning anything to do with the day of her first shopping experience.

Ms. Crabbe's oily lips were pinched in consternation at the halt of the reading. Valeria will admit she had chosen an inopportune time to stop reading- the dragon mistress, Belch (a name that hilariously reminded her of a certain dragon trainer in a movie from back home), had just fallen from a cliff and was facing certain death. She was fairly confident, however, that the question was interesting enough to distract the portrait of the deceased Crabbe.

And she was right; the painting's eyes had glazed over in thought after a moment of incredulity and irritation. Even after four years, Valeria still occasionally found herself marvelling at the delicate care the artist had put in, and the wonders of magic. She suspected the hue of the painting changed slightly whenever Ms. Crabbe moved or changed- like when she blushed or paled- but she was also noticing how the subtle strokes of paint moved with her, or shifted slightly in harmony with the hue change. Valeria _still_ hadn't a clue how it was able accurately portray the emotions in her eyes, like the glazed look she currently sported.

_'Magic,' _was the explanation she usually chalked it up to.

Ms. Crabbe spoke up, breaking her idle musings. "I would say the muggle child was actually a witch, her magic undiscovered as of yet."

"And if that isn't the reason?"

The portrait's eyes shone; she had been expecting that. "I had entertained a theory before I passed away that might explain it. Would you bear with me?"

Valeria raised a brow as if to say, _'Did you have to ask?'_

"There is a powerful magic that most wizards are unaware of- _the_ most powerful magic, actually. They _are_ aware of it in fact, but do not realize that it is magical at all."

The little girl leaned forward, expectant. "What is it?"

She cleared her throat before responding. "Love, Valeria."

The reincarnation leaned back in acknowledgement, remembering the words Dumbledore had shared with Harry all those years ago- seven years in their future, to be precise. She tilted her head in confusion, "I don't see how falling in a hole would beggar intense love. Maybe shock, or fear. But certainly not _love_. Even if it did- and Alice _did _seem odd enough to warrant an absurd emotional reaction- she's still a muggle, not magical in the slightest. It wouldn't protect her at all."

"That's not all," the portrait tilted her head as well at Valeria's curiously easy acceptance at her claim, then shook her head. "The truth behind the power of love- stop _sniggering_, Valeria, yes, I know how ridiculous that sounded. Where was I? Oh yes, the truth behind the power of love merits further thought on the subject. Love is simply an emotion built up in the human heart- the soul or whatever suits your fancy- over time, and yet it is magical _and_ drives people to do the oddest things- even to achieve things they would never have thought to do otherwise.

"Yet, love isn't the only thing that moves people. Hope. Belief. They also keep people going, just like love. It is my belief that they also hold power."

"No- wait," Valeria interrupted her. "If you went along with that line of thinking, other emotions come into play. Desperation, despair... _hate_. Those drive people too."

Ms. Crabbe smirked. "Ah, yes. You have just named the other sides of the coins."

"Other sides of the..." Valeria crossed her arms and chewed her lip contemplatively. " Oh, you're implying they're the same as hope, love, and whatever."

"Not quite, but yes," the oil paint moved in a nod of confirmation. "Just as life and death are two sides of the same coin, as are genius and madness. Love, hate. Hope, despair. Belief and desperation. They are twisted versions of those emotions, so much so that we have assigned them different names and meanings. People often say there _is_ a fine line between love and hate. Why not the others as well?"

"One could also argue that they are what people perceive in the absence of love and whatnot. That they do not actually exist and have no correlation between the relationship of genius and madness, if not life and death," Valeria disputed. "Just as there is no such thing as cold or darkness, the perceived absence of heat and light. There is no such thing as hate, only the absence of love."

The portrait gave her a mystified expression, "What? Where did you get such an idea?"

_'Ah_. _Here is the long awaited divide between magic and science,' _Valeria thought dryly. Thankfully, Ms. Crabbe didn't wait for an answer.

"It's an interesting thought... Anyways, the twisted versions of those emotions hold an effect over people, much the same as their purer versions. They are potent, true, but instead of empowerment, they mutilate the person over time. While love, for example, heals and enables people to overcome obstacles, hate destroys and... rips through said obstacles, I suppose you could say. So, yes, you could say hate, despair, and desperation would also fit into my line of logic, but they don't really contradict anything either. Does that suit your fancy?"

Valeria shrugged. She supposed it made sense.

"To get to the point, hope and belief should also be powerful magic to influence the world around them on a magical level. On a lesser scale than love, of course," the painting stopped and furrowed her brow, appraising Valeria. "It is... also possible the perceived _absence_ of love could be what mutilates a person's soul, if it is truly the way you portrayed emotions to be."

_'It could go either way,' _Valeria thought with dismay. _'To say Moldyshorts' hate was a form of love, goes against what Dumbledore claimed of his inability to do so. But I also wouldn't say the absence of an emotion is magic, or has magical properties... I don't think I'll ever know which it is, or if it's something else entirely.'_

Ms. Crabbe didn't seem to notice her inner musings, and continued. "Children tend to have an unwavering belief in the imaginary, and for muggle children this would be magic. It's possible that this Alice believed wholeheartedly in magic, believed in it so much, and quite likely hoped very much for something to save her, that the magic of her emotions transported her to the nearest centre of magic- Diagon Alley."

Valeria shook her head, "The girl is still a muggle though- no magic would have transported her, she can't use it."

"Ah," Ms. Crabbe leaned forward eagerly. "Then are you saying muggles do not love as magic folk do? Or that they're love is not as strong?"

Valeria glared indignantly. She had been a muggle in her past life, and she loved her sisters just as strongly as she had back then. "Of course not."

"Then we have a dilemma here; muggle love is supposedly the same, and they cannot use or interact with magic. One would then think that it is impossible for them to love or hope- and yet they do. Love, hope, and belief changes muggles just as they do wizards and witches. Why is that?"

The girl was dumbstruck- why hadn't _she _thought of that?

The grey eyes of Ms. Crabbe sparkled mysteriously with something that wasn't quite paint, "And now we're getting to the heart of my theory- one that could explain our unfortunate contradiction... that it is different."

"I object full heartedly to that," Valeria growled, insulted. "Muggle love is the same, one hundred percent."

"No! That wasn't what I meant at all," she snapped back defensively. "I mean that the magic of love is a different magic entirely than what we wizards wield."

"Like the difference between the magic of potion making and the magic of wandwork?"

"No- or yes if you look at it on a grander scale. Think about it," the woman urged. "The magic we wizards and witches wield on a daily basis works like a tool for our use. Similar to our intelligence, or our opposable thumbs. They bend to our will- but love? Our magic, our logic, Merlin, even _we _bend to _love_. It is an unstoppable force.

"Like nature," the portrait was practically oozing enthusiasm. "It is exactly like how we wizards bend to the whims of nature, the laws of the world. Do you get it, Valeria? Love, hope, belief, emotions are a vein of _natural _magic. The _magic _of the _world_. All of our magic- our tool, our inherent ability- is weak in the face of the magic of the universe. I mean, if our magic can do anything, then why does it fail to do certain things?"

"Like, create a conscious portrait while its original is still alive- make an identical soul in the same reality?"

"Exactly! There is a strain of magic that is all-powerful and governs the universe! Magic that is probably not magic at all, but something else entirely! Something our human minds cannot conceive."

_'Well, if it's something else entirely- and with the way she is fervently phrasing it- it sounds suspiciously like...' _

Valeria promptly smashed her head against the wall she was leaning on. She was not going to open that can of worms. Nope. She decided to ignore that line of thinking that took a sharp left into the metaphysical, and continued with the original conversation.

"So, you're claiming that there is magic different from what we use, and it is something that affects all people, muggles and magic folk included? That Alice had particularly strong emotions and _that_ magic was what saved her?"

Ms. Crabbe nodded empathically, "That, and maybe a bit of luck."

"Well, there's nothing I could think of that could contradict that- besides the fact that it's incredibly absurd," Valeria sighed, rubbing her throbbing head. "It's a sound theory, I'll give you that. She could still be a witch, for all we know."

The woman in the painting beamed, then deflated a little. "I had wanted to test and experiment with this magic, and prove its existence. Now I'm dead."

"Now, now. Ms. Crabbe," Valeria grinned knowingly. "Just because someone died, doesn't mean they're _dead_."

Valeria was killed once, but she was certainly not dead. If anyone knew it, it was her. The portrait rolled her eyes at the girl.

"Valeria, sweetheart, what are you still doing here?" Her mother's voice interrupted them as she walked up to the strange pair, her tone disbelieving. "You should be ready in the foyer!"

The little girl blinked at the sight of her mother all dressed up, and tapping her foot impatiently.

"Mother, I have no idea what you're talking about," Valeria's tone of voice held equal disbelief towards Victoria. What nonsense was she babbling about now? Certainly not a surprise engagement. She already staged one of those, and English wizarding law did not recognize polygamous marriages. Valeria had made sure to check in the big tome she bought when she first met Charlie.

What could she say? Valeria wouldn't put anything past her mother at this point.

"The guest, of course!"

Valeria raised a brow, "Our imaginary guest, you mean?"

Victoria, naturally, looked puzzled. "Imaginary what?"

Valeria's smirk slowly slipped off her face as the minutes ticked by. Her mother was serious. For the first time in forever, they were having a guest.

A real one.

A person.

That was not a Crabbe, in the Crabbe family home.

Valeria gaped, aghast. Who was crazy enough to agree to that? Maybe her family has resorted into blackmailing people into visiting. Or paying them... No, _no one_ would willingly subject themselves to the Crabbes for a monetary reward. It was impossible. Either they were being threatened, or completely bat shit crazy.

Valeria was leaning towards the bat shit theory.

"Valeria," Ms. Crabbe's voice cut it in. "Please stop catastrophizing everything in your head. I'm sure this guest is perfectly mundane."

Valeria's eyes widened and she looked up into her amused ones, grey oil paint glistening. It was a testament to how sharp Ms. Crabbe was to read her body language and facial expressions accurately like that, and the way she phrased it hinted that she'd already had Valeria's thinking patterns pegged down.

_'I really do catastrophize too much, don't I?'_

For the first time, the reincarnation wondered if she should start being careful about her secrets around her closest friend. Flustered, Valeria nodded at the both of them and turned around to quickly polish her appearance in her bedroom. When she emerged, her mother was gone and she headed down to the foyer.

Valeria walked down the halls, twitching spastically and biting her lip. She was slowly working herself into a nervous wreck.

The rest of the Crabbe family was already waiting there. Vinnie was staring vacantly, her mother had a sinister smile, and her father was rather twitchy. All was well in their behaviour, so Valeria allowed herself to relax. If they were acting normally, surely everything would be alright?

She peeked a glance at her mother again. Leave it to her to try and pull the rug out from under her, informing her only ten minutes before a guest arrives. Did she do all this on purpose? Did she enjoy watching them struggle and flounder about like a fish dumped in the middle of a sandpit? Well, and Valeria smirked triumphantly at this, the joke was on her.

Valeria was calm now, reassured, the nervous energy leaking out of her. She wasn't freaking out, or blowing things out of proportion. The girl was a stoic wall from now on. Nothing could surprise her, nothing could throw her off her game.

_'Come at me,' _Valeria taunted at the universe from within her mind. _'Throw your worst.'_

At that precise moment, the fireplace before them roared green, the flames spitting out their guest. As soon as Valeria's grey eyes locked with his black ones, her triumphant grin slackened into a horrified gaping hole.

_'Why?'_

She was dead. Her life was over.

Valeria should have known better. Her family was acting normal? That should have tipped her off that everything was going to go horribly wrong! They probably relax in the face of madness. The Crabbes were backwards, and thus any logic one attempts to apply to them is quickly shredded to a pulp.

_'Why?'_

How could she have forgotten how colossally wretched her luck was? If anything even _slightly _out of the norm happens, it will _always _take a turn for the worse.

_'Why?'_

Valeria shouldn't have listened to Ms. Crabbe. Perfectly mundane, her arse!

_'Why _him_?'_

She shouldn't have mocked the universe. She was its bitch, she was sure of it now.

"Why?" She whispered desperately to no one in particular. Valeria took it all back, everything she had thought moments before the Crabbe's guest arrived. She was not a stoic wall.

Valeria was going to freak the hell out over _every single thing _from now on.

_'It couldn't possibly get any worse today,' _Valeria thought hysterically as she started to hyperventilate. _'Not even the cosmos could do that. I'm screwed to infinity and beyond.'_

Unfortunately for the little adult, that was not the case. Victoria Crabbe beamed down at her offspring.

"Children! Meet your first cousin once removed," she declared happily. "Your Uncle Severus!"

Valeria's body tilted back and hit the floor, dead as a doornail.

* * *

(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

* * *

Valeria twitched, slowly coming back to reality. Her mouth tasted like peppermint, and her head surprisingly was clear of any headaches. She opened her eyes blearily, taking in the scene before her. She was stretched out on one of the living room couches, her family looking down at her. Her _family_.

Which included Snape, apparently.

Valeria moaned, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She had planned for complete avoidance of Snape to protect her secret. This threw the whole thing into the wood chipper. It was _heartbreaking. _She wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and wail her frustrations out. Her secret would be revealed for sure.

"Valeria, are you alright?" Her father's worried voice rang in her ears and he reached out a hand to brush her stringy hair out of her face. She recoiled instantly, more tears streaming down her face as she feebly pushed his hand away with her own.

"Of course she's alright. She fainted from joy, she was just so _happy _to see cousin Sev. Isn't that right, Valeria dear," her mother's loud voice sounded from above her.

"Oh, yes," Valeria sobbed out, her voice filled with despair. "Complete and utter joy."

"Really?" Valere and Snape said at the same time, her father's voice incredulous and Snape's laced with disgust. Valeria looked up at her new uncle through her tears of horror, to see his face twisted in a sneer of revulsion. _'You and me both, buddy.'_

Still, Valeria was evidently doomed for life. If she had to suffer through this, she was going to make this every bit as uncomfortable for him too.

She lunged forward and grabbed his hands before he could retreat. Clutching them so hard her knuckles turned white, she looked up into his appalled black eyes and smiled the most twisted, despairing smile that ever graced her face.

"Oh, yes. Really. My heart is bounding with delight, Uncle Sevvy. I can't wait to get to know you. We're going to have little _chats_, and have little _tea parties_, and play _dress up, _and it's going to be _so... much... fun..._" Valeria's voice was progressively becoming more hysterical and strangled, hiccups breaking up her speech. "We're going- _hick_\- to be such- _hick-_ close _buddies..._"

Valeria caught a glimpse of Snape's green and horror-stricken face before she flung her arms around him, wailing like a banshee and letting out all her frustration. She was sure he hated children and strong emotional displays, and by the way he was desperately trying to pry her off him, she was right. The little girl dug her nails in his cloak. It was beginning to turn into a vicious wrestling match.

"Victoria," he choked out. "Control your child."

Valeria felt someone move next to her, and before she knew it, Vinnie was beside her and throwing meaty fists at the man she was currently clinging onto. _'Oh, how sweet,' _Valeria thought manically as her twin brother continued to punch. _'He wants to be friends with Snape too.'_

Their mother had reached the same conclusion and threw her own meaty arms around the Potion Master. "Oh, how I love family reunions! Isn't this beautiful, Sev? The children love you!" Victoria crooned to her now murderous cousin. "Valere! Come, join us."

Valeria wished she could see her father's face, but unfortunately she was too busy pushing back the sallow hand that was attempting to shove her off. She could, however, hear his shocked and immensely uncomfortable voice.

"Uh... I'm just going to... Well... There's a boggart in my study!" Valeria heard rapid footsteps escaping out the door. "Forgive me, Severus!"

Snape growled furiously. His hand wiggled into his pocket, withdrew his wand, muttered a spell under his breath, and suddenly there was a slight stinging sensation all over Valeria's front. She cried out and let go, her brother and her mother retreating from Snape's angry figure as well. Valeria's eyes widened. She darted forward and poked the man, only to feel the same stinging sensation.

_'A spell that keeps people from touching you,' _Valeria's eyes sparkled. _'I want to learn that.'_

"That," Snape glared at the little girl in front of him. "Is the last time I give you Pepper Up Potion."

The girl swirled her tongue around in her mouth, tasting the peppermint, "Is it supposed to wake people up?"

"It cures the common cold," he sneered down at her, as if it were common knowledge. She stared at him.

"It's a good thing you're not a nurse then," she drawled. "I'd hate to find you administering Pepper Up Potion to some poor chap with a Basilisk fang protruding out of his chest."

"It's purposes were for _energizing _you and clearing whatever blasted headache you gave yourself, you insolent brat," he glowered at her. "And your little fainting spell was hardly a Basilisk attack."

"Well, if I ever come crawling to you after an unfortunate encounter with a Basilisk, I expect proper treatment," the dry comment came popping out of her mouth against her will. Valeria was amazed at herself. Even though she was practically quaking in her boots and terrified, her snarky mouth just couldn't seem to shut up. She'd always managed to keep her mouth shut around Lucius, who was the only other person who frightened her.

She was even more impressed with how well Snape was taking her more-intelligent-than-an-eight-year-old-should-be sarcasm. Draco imitated adult sarcasm, but he still was a kid and a lot of the time it flew right over his head; it was the closest she'd seen a kid that age with mature sarcasm. Yet Snape was taking it calmly, or as calmly as he could when his personal space had been dreadfully violated. Didn't even bat an eyelash.

With that observation, Valeria became even more terrified. Did he already take a peek into her mind? She really should start practicing Ocultmancy, or Occlumency- whatever it was called.

"Oh, Sev, there's no need to be shy," Victoria brushed off his blatant offensive spellcasting and rudeness.

"Yeah, Sevvy, we're all family here," Valeria's trembling voice mocked.

_'Am I maybe a masochist?' _The little girl thought to herself as Snape sent her a glare that could kill. _'Or suicidal?'_

She wondered if she was afraid of her father and her mother like this, if she'd still openly mock them the same way with Snape. It didn't look like Valeria's tongue was giving her a choice in the matter. And she thought she had left this trait behind in her past life.

_'Oh well,' _she audibly gulped as her mother made official introductions between the children and their new uncle of sorts.

"You've already seen each other, some years ago at the Malfoy manor. Do you remember, children?" Oh yes, Valeria remembered that moment of fright _very _clearly. Now she knew why they nodded to each other. "Well, Severus, meet my darling twins, Valeria and Vincent Crabbe."

"Ah, yes," he sneered down at her. "Here's our little Dark Lord protégé. The terrorizing is coming along splendidly, I assume?"

She froze and gulped audibly. He knew. She didn't know how, but he knew what she did.

Oh, sweet baby Jesus, he used Legume on her.

He used _Legume!_

"Sev? What do you mean?" Her mother's face was unreadable.

"I was wandering around the halls, searching for..." He trailed off suspiciously. "The restroom. I happened upon this little devil masquerading as the Dark Lord, scaring little Draco and his friends so much they wet their pants."

He didn't say little devil in that endearing tone most uncles would have used, but Valeria relaxed regardless. He hadn't used Legume on her, but it brought up some other curious questions. Her mind wandered off while her Mother sang praises about her 'obvious admiration' for the Dark Lord, and Vinnie kicked her shins as vengeance for tricking them.

Valeria knew she hadn't seen Snape in those halls. She had made sure to check around. Did that mean he had concealed himself with a Disillusionment Charm? Why? She certainly hadn't missed the way he trailed off. Was he searching for something else?

Valeria narrowed her eyes at Snape. Was he searching for something _here?_ She supported his efforts in thwarting Lord Moldyshorts, but that didn't mean she liked him snooping around _their_ home.

She rubbed absently at her much abused shins. She blinked. When did Vinnie leave the room?

"He left to go bother- I mean, play with your father, Valeria," her mother said cheerily from where she and her cousin were drinking tea. Had she said that out loud? When did they start drinking tea?

"It appears your daughter is an airhead as much her aunt was," Snape scoffed into his cup. "Always living inside her head."

Her mother hissed at him, "Quiet, Severus."

The little girl furrowed her brows as she picked up a teacup. It was the first time she'd witnessed her mother get angry at anyone who wasn't a house-elf or a pureblood. Then again, Snape wasn't pure in any sense of the word.

"I don't have an aunt, Sevvy," she was really starting to enjoy the way that nickname made him bristle. Even if the looks he gave her made her want to cower in a corner.

"You _don't_," Snape spat. Her mother hissed again at the gleeful look on his face. "Because she is dead."

"I- What?" Valeria dropped her tea, scalding her already sore shins. "Dead? What does he mean, Mother? I've never heard about this."

"Of course you haven't. I don't _like_ talking about her." She sniffed, sipping her tea primly.

"Why? Was she your sister?" The little girl asked, her naive tone making Snape snort. "Do you miss her?'

"Victoria didn't have a sister," Snape's black eyes, so much like her mother's, were cold. Valeria could hear Charlie's voice in her head.

_"Rune Guy. He invents runic circles, or arrays or something, designed to mimic the effects of real spells without the wandwork. My dad said his sister came up with it, your aunt I mean."_

"Father has a sister?" She asked, bewildered.

"_Had_, Valeria, she's dead now," her mother sounded peculiarly pleased with this fact. "Little bint is buried in the ground."

Valeria recoiled at her mother's vicious tone and words, "How could you say that?"

"She never approved of me, Valeria," her mother's lip curled and she took extra care to pronounce every syllable of her name. "When your grandparents proposed me as your father's match, she fought her parents for every second of it. She openly _despised _me. Me! The heir to the Prince family fortune, a respected pureblood family! The union of our houses would have revitalized the Crabbe family and carried on _pure _Prince blood!"

Snape scowled at this statement, but Valeria barely notice. For someone who didn't like to talk about Valere's sister, she sure talked a _lot_.

"And you know what she did _weeks_ before our wedding day? Do you, _Valeria_?"

She shook her head mutely. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't afraid of her mother in that very instant.

"She _ran! _That _blood traitor_ ran! In the middle of the war, before our marriage! When she should have been supporting your father, and the Dark Lord's bid for power, bid for _blood purity! _That cowardly, selfish traitor _ran!_" Her mother snarled this last bit, spittle flying. Valeria gulped, sitting down quietly beside Snape's still form.

"She brought shame to our family, Valeria," her mother's voice softened. "The Crabbe family was looked down upon by the rest of respected society. But I still married your father, regardless of his sister's past mistakes. I didn't want to tell you, sweetheart. I didn't want you to be ashamed of the Crabbe family name like the rest of the wizarding world."

Valeria had to force down the bitter laugh that crawled its way up her throat. Oh, the irony. She was already ashamed of her family, from the moment she learned she was a Crabbe. This was probably the first time she'd ever been proud of a family member in this life. This nameless aunt, who left behind her brother and ran.

"Are you? Ashamed?" Victoria asked worriedly.

"...No." _Not anymore. Not of this aunt I never had. _

And just to spite him for bringing up this horrid subject and getting a rise out her and her mother, she squished herself to Snape's side and squeezed his hand for the entirety of their dull conversations.

* * *

(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

* * *

Valeria stilled in front of the heavy wooden door in front of her. She had gotten kicked out of the living room when Snape and Victoria started to discuss 'adult matters', and had been wandering around the halls. They were probably whinging about Moldyshorts' unfortunate demise.

_"You'll have to forgive him someday, Valeria."_

The reincarnation hadn't meant to stop before this door. Her feet must've subconsciously dragged her here.

_"Are you? Ashamed?"_

Was _he_ ashamed?

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A solemn "enter" sounded from behind the wood. Valeria cautiously turned the handle and peeked inside. Her father was sitting slumped on the small couch in his study, his messy hair obscuring his face, the drawer of his desk left far open. He was twiddling Valarogue's silver and green handkerchief between his fingers.

That almost made her smile.

He looked up, and he too almost smiled. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and he looked exhausted. There really must have been a boggart in his desk drawer.

"You never come to see me." _Why are you here?_

She grimaced. He made it sound like she was a horrible daughter who actively avoided her poor, loving father. Well, maybe it was a little true. The girl carefully strode towards the other end of the couch, and sat down on the edge.

The little adult didn't know how to broach the subject.

_"Are you? Ashamed?"_

Was he?

Was he ashamed of his sister? Ashamed of _her_, of Valeria?

She had to know. It was itching at her, and she could almost hear her own sisters whispering in her ear, telling her to ask.

"What brings you here, dear daughter of mine?" He asked cheerily, which was actually more disturbing than if he sounded frightened. He never sounded cheery. How much did that boggart affect him?

"Snape told me I have an aunt," she said nonchalantly, as if she were casually mentioning the weather. _You have a sister and you never told me._

The change was instantaneous. The man next to her stiffened, and took a shuddering breath. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but he had turned, his feet resting squarely on the cushion so his back was completely facing her. It was easily a hard topic for him. She wondered if he'd ever spoken about it with anyone before.

"Had. You had an aunt. She's gone," came the forced reply. _I had a sister and she's dead._

_"Are you? Ashamed?"_

Was he? Was he ashamed of her? Of both of them? Her mind flashed to Nocturne Alley. That look of disappointment in his eyes. Valeria grit her teeth. She could tell he didn't want to talk about it. But she had to know. Her sisters were begging her to know.

"You had a sister," she pushed him. _Tell me._

"I did," he said softly after several minutes, resting his arms on his knees. "I had a twin sister, a little sister."

"She was your twin?" She repeated, shocked. Like her and Vinnie. Like her and...

_"You think they'd let me keep it as a pet?" My sister whispered from the seat next to me, eyes sparkling and the light from the theatre screen casting her face in an unearthly glow-_

"Yes," he interrupted her thoughts. "I had a twin sister, just like you and Vinnie, and I loved her."

_"Are you? Ashamed?"_

"Mother told me about her too." _She told me every nasty little thing._

He stilled. Valeria waited a few moments.

"She said the Crabbe family was ashamed of her." _Tell me._

He was quiet. Valeria counted to ten and clenched her fists.

"Are you? Ashamed?" _Tell me._

"... I was angry." _But not anymore._

"Angry?" _Tell me._

"She ran. My sister ran from me. Ran from everyone!" His voice was hoarse and his body was trembling when the words finally came tumbling out. "I was so _angry_ with her. Not a word to me, or anyone, before she took off! I was to be married in a few weeks to Victoria, and I need her with me. I _needed _her, Valeria. I needed my _sister_."

"Why did she run?" _Tell me._

"It's complicated, Valeria." _I don't want to._

"Why?" _Please._

"Our parents were furious. They'd had a prospective marriage for her too, a better one than I had. Zabini was- is- a good man. He would've been good to her, handsome as well, she didn't have much room to complain. He would have still married her if she came back, he took a neutral side to the war and blood purity. But she didn't come back. She never did."

"Did you think she'd return?" _Were you heartbroken?_

"I expected her to." _Yes._

"And when she didn't?" _Tell me._

"My parents ended up rushing my marriage before I decided to pick up and follow her. Didn't stop me from going after her, though. I wanted answers. I wanted to scream and rage at my twin who abandoned me. And I found her, eventually. Over a year later, in Osthaven."

Valeria gulped. She had the impression he was staring off, lost in some old memory.

_"Are you? Ashamed?"_

"What happened?" _Tell me_.

"She was so happy," he whispered. "She had the brightest grin on her face, one I hadn't seen in years. There was a sparkle in her eye I hadn't noticed died when she received the Dark Mark."

Valeria jolted. Her aunt had been a Death Eater as well. A sense of unease, foreboding grew within her.

"I didn't think it possible, but her grin grew even wider when she saw me. She wanted me to stay with her, be a family again," there was a smile in his voice. "My sister still loved me. I had thought she didn't care about me anymore."

_"Are you? Ashamed?"_

"Did you scream at her?" _Did you hurt her?_

"No." _Never._

"What did you do?" _Tell me._

"Just like that, all my pent up rage, all my anger, was gone. My baby sister was happier than I'd ever seen her. So I left her, instead of dragging her back to our family, I left her in Osthaven where she was happy."

_'Oh no,' _Valeria thought desperately, the foreboding feeling washing through her. _'No.'_

She remembered the article in the Daily Prophet from when she was four. The one her father had been staring at all morning, lost in his own memories.

_' Oh no.'_

"I never realized how hard it was on her, being a Death Eater. She'd always followed me wherever I went, even into Voldemort's forces. I suppose she thought I'd get myself killed if she wasn't there to defend my back. It didn't occur to either of us that it'd be the other way around," his voice was choked with withheld tears. Valeria squeezed her eyes shut. Horror gripped her heart.

_'Oh no.'_

She had been a Death Eater.

_'No.'_

Her aunt had been a _runaway _Death Eater.

_'No way.'_

A _turn cloak_ Death Eater.

_'Please no.'_

A _traitor_.

_'That's too horrible.'_

A Death Eater who betrayed _Voldemort_.

"No," her voice was choked as well. She couldn't believe her ears.

"Yes," he whispered. "The Battle of Osthaven was the largest and most brutal of the Death Eater attacks. And it was all for the purpose of hunting down my sister, a year after I had already found her. The blood traitor. My _baby _sister, the blood traitor."

Valeria was shaking her head. She didn't want to hear anymore. She wanted to shut him up, or run out of the room. But she had pushed him into it, and her sisters' voices were ringing in her ear, telling her to listen.

"Voldemort ordered me to that fight," his voice shook and she knew there were tears rolling down his face. "_Two hours_ after it began. Kept me in the dark before he told me in the most satisfied tone I'd ever heard from him."

She felt sick.

"I found her later, Valeria. In a crumbling house," his words barely more than sobs now. "This time there was no smile on her face, or sparkle in her eyes. There wasn't _anything _left in them. She was _dead_, along with a muggle and another Death Eater. _Wilkes,_" he growled out the name.

"Lowly little prat that he was went after _my sister_. I don't know how they _all_ managed to end up dead, how my sister managed to kill him with her. He deserved it, but I didn't care anymore, Valeria. I didn't care about the Dark Lord, or the blood purity, or all that fighting. Not when I saw my sister lying dead amongst the rubble. Not when her lifeless eyes were staring back at me. I couldn't protect her, my twin, my baby sister. That was all I cared about.

"It was horrifying Valeria. I couldn't bear it, not her short-lived happiness, not her death, not the cries. Oh, Valeria, the _cries_ were the _worst_."

He had begun to ramble before he abruptly cut himself off, sobbing horribly. Valeria turned in her seat, placed her feet on the cushion of the sofa and rested her back against his. She was sobbing too.

She knew how evil Voldemort could be, how vicious his followers were. She just couldn't have imagined any of that wrath turned against her father and her family.

_'How naive am I? And I always thought my parents had married for _love,' she thought bitterly. Listening to her father weep over his dead sister, she couldn't help but think of her old life.

\- _I looked at my sister and resisted a chuckle for the sake of our fellow movie watchers, the sounds of Harry's crash as he evaded the dragon on his broom in the background-_

She'd had a twin sister. A younger one. Did she weep like this too? When Valeria's old body had been smashed and crushed to a bloody pulp. Did she see her body, like Valere did when he stumbled through that wrecked house? Did she hold in all the pain, unable to move on with her life like the man she was leaning against. Did her other sisters see her broken body? She hoped not. Their youngest sister had enough problems at school. Watching her older sister's bloody corpse zipped up in a body bag wouldn't have helped matters.

It hurt not knowing.

_God_, it hurt not knowing how they were doing.

A bitter laugh bubbled up from her throat at the irony of it all.

Here they were, a man weeping for his dead sister and a sister who was dead and lost to her family. Together, but with the wrong people. Not the people they wanted to see. Not who they wanted to be with.

_Alice._

Not the girl she had met in Diagon Alley, the one she had rescued. She had had strawberry blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. Not Alice in Wonderland. But Alice her sister. The one with long brown hair, brown eyes and a plain face that was always smiling.

Amazing how the one person she'd met that reminded her of her sister, shared her name.

_'I miss her so much.'_

"You and Vinnie were born a year later," Valeria's father broke her thoughts. "You two were a handful."

_'That's a load of bull,' _Valeria tried to scoff, but it came off as a sniffle. _'You barely held us, you lazy git.'_

Although, he _had _beena lazy git in mourning at the time. Still was, if the way he had been sobbing was anything to go by.

"You have her eyes, you know," he commented offhandedly with a smile in his voice and Valeria twitched. "Well, technically my eyes, since you got them from me. But they were the same, nevertheless. My great-aunt had them too. You were named after her, did you know? Irma Crabbe."

_'Oh fuck,' _Valeria almost said aloud. _'I am such a bitch.'_

While her father continued to reminisce about her and Vinnie's toddlerhood, Valeria was quietly debating on whether she should sew her eyes shut or stab them out with a red hot poker. Ever since she'd gazed into the cursed mirror at the Malfoy manor, she'd thought the reason why he flinched when he first held her was because it had been unnerving to see his own eyes staring back at him.

Could you imagine your dead sister's eyes glaring at you with disgust and hate every time you entered the room?

No wonder he'd been so skittish and practically ran at every chance he got. To him, it must have been like his sister was accusing him from beyond the grave for failing to protect her. And Valeria had thought he'd deserved it.

_'I am such a bitch.'_

When they'd gone to Knockturn Alley for the first time, it hadn't been disappointment she saw in her eyes. It was shame, to be precise. Shame that he couldn't even protect his own children from those Dark influences. They'd never be able to survive pureblood society if they couldn't stay calm in the face of Dark objects, he couldn't have kept them from it forever.

And what had Valeria done?

She'd given him a scathing glare and stomped on his foot. Twice.

She threw her face in her hands and groaned.

_'I hate purebloods and their damn traditions, and their damn obsessions with blood, and their damn family secrets. None of this would have happened if they weren't all screwed up in the head.'_

An idea suddenly occurred to her, thinking of strawberry blond hair and blue eyes.

"Father," she said, and he stopped his quiet musings. "She's not really gone, you know. Not really."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Someone once told me that people who are lost to you will always be with you. In your memory, or your heart, or your dreams, or the things you do or say, there's a little part of them that will never leave you," she replied quietly. "Rune arrangement was her thing, wasn't it? And yet you still carry on the torch your sister left behind, dedicating your life to it. So she's not gone. She's still with you."

"... I suppose so," he said quietly, unknowingly mimicking what Valeria had said. "Never underestimate the wisdom of children. How true that is. Thank you, Valeria."

"You're welcome," she said, frowning as she did so.

Her father wasn't a bad man, at least, not anymore. He was a broken shell of a man now, chasing after his sister's shadow and raising his children in his own. She knew she couldn't heal him, take away the hurt. It never goes away, not really. But maybe Valeria could give him a bit of light in his life. Let him in, instead of shutting him out like she did everyone else.

She couldn't let him in completely, though. She couldn't tell anyone her secret, that she was a dead nineteen-year-old masquerading in a child's body. Valeria wanted to tell him her darkest secret like he told his, but she couldn't.

The reincarnation chewed her lip. What could she possible share that wouldn't tip him off?

-_ I whispered back to her, "A pet? You think you can tame _that_ creature?"-_

_'Oh,' _she thought as the idea hit her like a giant Mack Truck. _'How simple is that?'_

"Father," she cleared her throat nervously.

"Hm?" She felt the rumble of her father's voice through her small back.

"You and Mother always call me Valeria."

He snorted, "Well that _is _your name."

"Yes, but I'd like a nickname. You can't have Val, since that's what Vinnie calls me."

"What do you propose then?" Valere asked, humouring her.

"... You can call me Valerie."

"Valery? With a 'y'?" His voice was bemused.

"No, with an e. V-A-L-E-R-I-E. Valerie."

_-My sister grinned at me, opened her mouth, and whispered, "Of course, Valerie, it's just like a fire-breathing dog, ain't it? Should be easy as pie."_

Her father laughed alongside the memory of her own raucous laughter, "Only one letter difference? That's hardly a nickname, Valeria."

"It's Valeri_e_, Father, Valerie."

"Of course, Valerie," he sounded so amused while he said her name, but it was different for Valeria. She'd never been close with her father in her past life, never cared much for him. When he used to say her name she didn't feel much of anything. But when Valere said it, in between chuckles, Valeria had felt a sudden warm feeling in her chest.

It, of course, made her extremely uncomfortable because she only felt those warm fuzzy feelings whenever she thought of her sisters. The little girl quickly rammed her elbow into her father's back, making his laughter turn into strangled chokes. After another vicious stab, she felt satisfied.

"What was that for?" he asked hesitantly, and perhaps a little fearfully.

"I've decided," she said primly. "Only you may call me Valerie. Mother will just have to find her own nickname."

"Okay, Valerie." There it was again! That damn warm feeling in her chest. Valeria was about to send another brutal elbow into his back, when it had suddenly occurred to her that she was acting exactly like Vinnie would. Horror-struck, she quickly changed the subject.

"What was your boggart?"

"My boggart?" He remained silent for a few moments, and took in a shaky breath. "It was..."

"Father?"

"It was Victoria... in a swimsuit."

"That's... that's not _too _bad."

"It was a size too small, Valerie."

This time when he said her name, she gagged violently.

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Valeria was lying in her bed, buried under her covers, warm and satisfied with the day's end. She'd managed to avoid complete annihilation by greasy Potion Master, _and _she patched together whatever frayed cloth her and her father's relationship had been cut out of.

She wasn't stupid, though. Valeria knew it wouldn't be all sunshine and daisies with her father from now on. She could no longer hold his past sins against him, as a buffer between them, but she still couldn't forgive him. Not yet. He may be regretful, but he hadn't done anything to fix his wrongs. In some ways, he was just as cowardly and selfish as his sister.

And Valeria didn't know _how _to be a loving and supportive daughter. She'd mostly tried her damndest to avoid her parents in her past life, and this one hadn't been any different. They were both broken and misshapen in their own twisted ways, and she doubted they could ever be a happy, carefree family. Not with all this death hanging over their heads.

Although she supposed her father could just _eat _it, as that stupid name implied.

"Mundane guest, my arse," she muttered vehemently to herself. "Everything will go well, you'll see, Valeria. Bet you didn't know I'd end up fainting, and comforting my mourning father as he recounted the disturbing events that lead up to his sister's death, eh? Did you, Ms. Crabbe? I thought not."

"Valeria?"

The little girl jumped, thinking that the painting had finally decided to wander beyond the confines of her own frame. Squinting into the darkness, she noticed her door was cracked open, and her mother's form was standing halfway to her bed.

"Are you awake, sweetheart?"

"Yes," she yawned. "Did you need something, Mother?"

Her mother strode forward to stand beside her bed. The sleepy girl stared back up into her mother's black eyes. They were so much like Snape's, as was her hair and her skin. The only differences were it was slightly sallow, and the hair a lot less greasy. She wondered why she couldn't see it before.

"I just wanted to tell you how proud I am."

"Proud?" She was confused. "Of what?"

"You, dear. I've never told you this, but Sev is of a lesser blood. His father was a muggle," her tone turned disapproving when she said the word. "His mother, Eileen, my father's sister, was disowned from the Prince family when she married him. My father never really understood why she married him, he wasn't a very good man. No one ever told me, but I think he used to beat my aunt, and maybe Sev."

Her mother began to pet her hair, and Valeria's eyes widened. She didn't think her mother was sharp enough to notice that, especially since no one told her.

"Sev never had a good family life, and I'd only met him when we went to Hogwarts together. He's never had much of a family at all, except for his poor old mother. I'd grown fond of him over time, especially when he joined the Dark Lord's cause, except I'd never been family to him. But you, Valeria," her mother's signature sinister smile curled up on her face. "You embraced him as if he were a Crabbe. You can be family to our dear Sev."

Valeria gaped at her mother. The woman crooned, said good night, and ambled out of her room, closing the door behind her.

_'What in the blazing hell was that?'_

Family?

To Severus Snape?

The antichrist's mentor?

She'd already been forced to befriend _Draco Malfoy_, now she was expected to be Snape's cuddly little niece?

_'What in the bloody hell am I supposed to do about that?'_

The man terrified her half to death.

Snape, a poor lost boy wanting a family to call home?

She snorted, turning over in her sheets. Well, maybe it could be true. She'd forgotten completely that he'd had a bad home life. Maybe he really did come here to connect with family. Although the very thought of it made her skin crawl.

It's possible he really didn't come here to snoop around, or, as she later thought, came here to secure an inheritance in the so called Prince fortune. It was certainly large enough for her grandparents to secure a marriage between Victoria and their son. Valeria snorted again. She couldn't believe she thought they'd married for love. It was _always _about the money.

The little adult let out mad giggle.

What was with the world these days? It's like it flipped over on its head. Since when were Death Eaters remorseful and where the hell did they pick up a damn beating heart? First Regulus Black, then Snape, her aunt, and now her father. Death Eaters on the side of Light! The hilarity of it all!

Valeria groaned into her pillow.

She already had to deal with one traumatized, teary-eyed Death Eater. What was she going to do with another one? Give him chocolate, pat his back, and tell him it'll all be better? Give him a teddy bear to cry his tears into?

Victoria said Snape needed family.

Well, it looked like he got it, and it was just as unwilling as he was.

Valeria groaned again.

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A/N: I know, I'm dark and twisty inside, and you all hate me for it. Did those scenes come right out of left field for you? Did any of you get a tear in your eye? No, just mad? Well, so's Snape. He's furious.

For those who are thinking it's too soon for it to be **The Big Reveal** of the underlying plot,it's not. As in this isn't the big reveal. Not even close. If you think this is the biggest secret a pureblood family can have, you're dead wrong. The Crabbe's have bigger secrets than this, and they're coming_ way_ later in the story.

If any of you have noticed the ginormous human shaped holes in the story Valere and Victoria told Valeria, than you've probably realized this as well.

Anywho, I ended up having to cut out a few Snape scenes and a Ms. Crabbe scene from this chapter. They'll be moved to later ones, and I have Slytherin day planned out for Valeria to make up for all that missed Snape. She's going to hate it.

**FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO MAY BE CONFUSED**

**1.** Allen is a boy. He is not a girl named Alice. Valeria is just really really confused about that.

**2\. **Valeria's previous name was Valerie. Her name will remain as Valeria and only her father will regularly call her Valerie.

**3\. **Snape is Victoria's cousin, not her brother. That makes him Valeria's first cousin once removed, though they all prefer Uncle. (Except for Snape, he hates it)

**4\. **PM me or leave a review if you have any other questions. Most likely I'll be fleshing out little plot details in the later chapters.

**Next update will probably be later today, or tomorrow.**

Remember to review, please!

-Fiction


	9. Charlie I: Bonus

**WARNING: THIS IS PART OF A DOUBLE UPDATE! If you haven't read chapter 8, the previous one, then I suggest you click the back button.**

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A/N: Hello everyone! As a spur of the moment decision, I have decided that for every 50 reviews (Next one will be 100th review), I will gift the fiftieth reviewer with a Perspective Chapter of a character of their choice. I think it's a fun way to thank you guys for reading _Scourgify_ and supporting it! (Seriously, was not expecting to get to 50 reviews).

Anywho, our lovely fiftieth reviewer, potterinu, has decided on a Charlie Perspective chapter! A good choice, I might add. There was more going on from his perspective.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter

No Beta

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**Chapter 9: Charlie I**

Charlie groaned, rolling his neck in an effort to get out all the cricks. He knew his sixth year would be busy, but with the added load of being a prefect _and_ Quidditch captain, he found he barely had time to himself.

Shuffling around his school books, he arranged his items to create an appropriate workspace on the common room table. He stuck his hand in his satchel in an attempt to find some clean parchment for his essay, when he came across a crumpled piece practically melded into one of the corners. Feeling triumphant at finding more parchment, he pulled it out and unfolded it, smoothing out the creases on the worktable.

"Merlin's saggy balls!" He cursed, scaring a group of first years passing by.

The parchment was already used, but that wasn't why Charlie was cursing. It was a letter he had received from his strange friend. A _month _ago.

He remembered it now, in the Great Hall, opening his letter, swiftly reading it, before stuffing it in his satchel for later and shouting at his Quidditch players to get a move on for practice. He intended to reply within the week, truly he did, but he never had the time, not even for his fellow dragon enthusiast. Not Hagrid, mind you, but a little six-year-old girl- now eight- that was probably eagerly awaiting his letter and wondering why in Merlin's name hadn't he sent one back yet.

It took a while to figure out, but he knew she had no friends, save for a _painting _she casually mentions every now and again. It made him feel all the more guilty for neglecting his reply.

One might be wondering why the sixth year was in correspondence with an eight-year-old, and not his younger sister who was about the same age. He actually suggested it to the both of them once, but his friend vehemently refused to introduce herself to his sister and Ginny became uninterested when she found out the girl didn't like Quidditch, nor the Harry Potter storybooks.

He remembered asking why she didn't enjoy Quidditch- it baffled him- and all he got was "a traumatic incident that left me in pieces". He was still trying to figure out if that was figurative or literal.

It was actually Charlie, not his sister, who met the girl in Flourish and Blotts two years ago. Even back then, the girl was strange and didn't act at all like a child. And most amazingly enough, she had inadvertently _changed his life_.

He had been browsing the Magical Creatures section of the bookstore, eyes fervently scanning the titles in front of him when he spotted a rather large encyclopaedia on_ dragons! _Charlie had reached out his hand to grab the book- the last one there it would seem- when a small hand quickly darted out and snatched it a second before he could. He sighed, irritated and had peeked down to see a small, black head of hair and manic grey eyes roving over the pages as she flipped quickly through the book.

Really, that should've been his first clue something was off about the child.

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Feeling miffed, Charlie looked down at the girl before him who had taken his book. She was dressed in new, rich looking robes and shiny shoes that looked like they'd never been worn. An expensive looking, goblin made bracelet hung from one of her slightly chubby wrists.

_'A spoilt pureblood, then,' _he thought to himself cynically as he looked down at her pointy, aristocratic face. Still, the girl looked positively delighted at the book and unaware of her surroundings, so he supposed she genuinely hadn't noticed him. Charlie decided he could probably get away with reading over her shoulder.

After she had flipped through a third of book, she twitched, her hand faltering and going back to the page of the Hungarian Horntail. Charlie took the time to read up on the glorious dragon in detail, ignoring her now downturned face and melancholy mood. After a few minutes, she stiffened, turned to the next page quickly, and he grumbled in response, leaning closer and incidentally blocking her light with his shadow.

_'Well, if she hadn't noticed me before...'_

She surprised him; instead of turning around shyly or curiously as would most children her age encountering an older child, she snapped around quickly and practically hissed at him, her grey eyes narrowed in anger. Even more strange, was when her eyes promptly widened in vague recognition.

_"Do you need something?"_

"Not exactly. Just really wanted to read that book," he responded to her heated question sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. He wondered if she had personal space issues, or dealt with an extremely annoying younger sibling.

"Why don't you pick out your own then, I'm sure there's plenty," she responded, deflating. Quick to anger, quick to calm, he noted absently.

He sighed in response, saying it was the last copy here, depression settling in on him. Charlie wished his mother was more into dragons than pretentious heroes like Lockhart; that way he'd have double the dragon books.

The girl surprised him again- she looked nervous and a little downtrodden, before resolve firmed in her eyes, and she shyly held out the book in offering, saying he could buy it instead. Which was very kind and thoughtful for a kid, especially a spoilt pureblood. Charlie was a little heartbroken he couldn't have the book, even with it served on a silver platter for him- quite literally, the robes she was wearing had a silver lining and the hand that was holding out the book was the one with the silver bracelet.

"Can't. Not enough allowance. Mum actually sent me here to buy a book she wanted," he told her as much, and... ah, there it was. The look in her eyes as the information he gave her clicked together in her head. She was going to sneer at the pureblood boy before her in contempt for being of a lower status than her, and spend the rest of her time either ignoring him or throwing insults at him for being poor.

Just as any other 'proper' pureblood would.

Charlie could see it coming, she looked up at him as if he were some deadly contagious disease, something to avoid at all costs. He looked down at the dragon encyclopaedia in her hands longingly, mournfully. Oh, _dragons..._

"I'll make you a deal then," she spoke up pompously, shocking him. "You carry all the books I pick out, and I'll lend you this book after I finish reading it."

Charlie blinked at her. It sounded excellent, but he had to wonder if this was a ploy to get a good laugh out of him. Have him do all the hard labour, and then 'forget' to send him the encyclopaedia.

But then, as he asked her how many books she was planning on getting, he noticed a tremble in the hand holding his beloved book. Peering closer at her, finally, he noticed she was just a little _too _pale, and her eyes were tired as she answered his question. And when she held out her hand, he saw confliction, uncertainty, sadness, and maybe just a bit of fear in her eyes too, while she asked if they had a deal.

The girl looked like an old soul who'd just been through a harrowing day.

Plus, it really didn't look like she could carry more than five books.

So... Why not?

Charlie grinned, grabbed her hand and said, "We have a deal. Name's Charlie, by the way, Charlie Weasley."

"Valeria," she grinned back, smiling for the first time, and the uncertainty vanished from her eyes. "Pleasure."

"No last name?" He asked with curiosity and extreme confusion. A rich kid like her? How?

"I do have one, actually," she admitted, and the next admission befuddled him even more. "But I'd rather I didn't at all."

"Why not?" Because she didn't want to admit her familial affiliation to him? Was it something to be ashamed of? _Was_ she ashamed?

Valeria answered his question with a few smart words about some character called Madonna, but he was sure she just sidestepped answering with the _real _reason. It was all _very _strange behaviour for a child, the first clue that gave him the inkling that _something was off _with Valeria No Last Name_._

Still, he played along good naturedly. Charlie Weasley wasn't known for making people feel uncomfortable.

Despite his jovial friendliness, he still noticed the girl seemed a little too smart, evasive, and, well... _old _for a kid his sister's age, so he decided to subtly ask her about things he knew little girls should like; the Boy Who Lived storybooks for example. Charlie stopped right after that because the girl started to seriously tell him that she lived through a past life.

He didn't think normal kids came up with tales like that. The way she went about it... _"I don't feel twenty-five, nineteen, or six at all. I'm lost in limbo and I have no idea who I am." _It was too philosophical. He played along, thinking it was hilarious, but he did notice one thing- she still had that look of sadness and tiredness in her eyes.

It was irking to see a child so young look so... so... _old! _As a result, Charlie was a little glad that he had agreed to carry her books. They spent the whole time joking around, making sarcastic little comments, and every moment that passed raised the girl's spirits. He felt like he was doing a good deed, cheering up a sad kid and donating his time to make someone's day brighter.

As he slowly got to know Valeria No Last Name better, however, he became even more confused and frustrated. The girl was just too odd. She was a mystery, he hadn't yet figured out why she was so strange, and she hadn't at all acted like the spoilt pureblood he thought she'd be.

Oh, it wasn't that she wasn't spoilt. She certainly was, it was clear in the with the way she walked around like she was entitled to everything. And she was most definitely a stuck-up pureblood, she was arrogant and even had an arranged marriage all sorted out (not that she wanted it apparently).

Okay, so she _did_ act exactly like a spoilt pureblood. But that wasn't _all _there was to her.

Valeria was funny, inquisitive, both mature and childish. She adored animals and adventure tales. The girl had goals, and the dream to one day tame a dragon as a pet. The crazy Rune Guy was her father; she had a family and people who cared about her. She was sad, but put on a brave face for everyone around her, maybe even fooled herself with it. Ms. No Last Name had secrets and things she wanted to hide.

It was like... It was almost like... there was more to spoilt purebloods than just that. Like they were actually _people_ who had likes and dislikes and constructive hobbies and individual personalities and dreams and families and emotions. They were _dynamic_ instead of just being evil characters with the only purpose of being hated by the righteous masses.

It was an absurd idea.

But, meeting and getting to know Valeria proved that to him.

With that realization, the young, fourteen-year-old Gryffindor had an epiphany, made a connection with that to his own personal life at Hogwarts. Really, it was more like some kind of dawning horror as he was strolling the streets of Diagon Alley, after paying for his mother's book. As if the sky above him was slowly, but surely, falling down to meet the earth and squish him flat.

Maybe...

Just _maybe_...

Slytherins were like that as well.

And by extension...

It was possible that...

_Maybe _possible that...

And he couldn't believe he was entertaining the idea that...

...Slytherins were_ actually __**people**__ too!_

It was life changing for the Gryffindor boy.

Truly life changing.

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"Life changing, indeed," Charlie muttered to himself as he stared at the crumpled letter before him, snapping out of his memories. He hadn't noticed it before that encounter, but there _were _more to Slytherins than the little snakes let on. At least, for some of them.

There was a seventh year Slytherin that hung around the library who he had always thought was a snobby show-off. He would loudly talking about how amazing he was at finding books to finish his essays in his earlier years, and how the struggling kids near them were too stupid and incapable. A Slytherin girl in a lower year than Charlie would buy a horde of expensive, decadent chocolates, showing them off, gloating about how they couldn't hope to afford that much, and then leave most of it for the house-elves to clean up after her.

Which was all just very rude and wasteful.

That's what he thought, until he noticed the older Slytherin boy in other places. Charlie was surprised to see he was soft spoken outside the library, which was incredibly backwards in his opinion. Then, Charlie was walking through the halls one day, when he happened to pass Professor Flitwick and a group of Slytherin girls. He recognized the girl Flitwick was congratulating on her charmwork as the chocolate hooligan, shrugged, and then faltered in his steps when _humble _words came spilling out of her mouth. Charlie would have thought she'd act all high and mighty when her friends were around her, seeing as Slytherins had sticks up their arses when it came to powerful appearances and public images.

That was all very confusing for him, until when later in the year, he realized why they were so controversial.

The newly made prefect had been quietly working in the library, when he heard the soft spoken, yet loud mouthed Slytherin making snide comments to the lower years again. Charlie was about to walk over there and take points off for being loud and rude, when he heard the older boy say something strange, something that Charlie wouldn't have noticed before he met Valeria.

The snake had casually dropped a few titles in his rude remarks. Titles that, Charlie noted with utter disbelief, would have helped the younger Hufflepuffs immensely with their Transfiguration essays.

Then, the Hufflepuffs walked off while snickering about how 'stupid that Slytherin was to _always name _the good books'.

And that was certainly not true, Charlie was sure of it, his eyes moving incredulously from the now quietly working boy, to the Slytherin's advanced _Arithmancy_ books he had around his table. The boy was definitely not stupid, if the subject he was studying had anything to say about it.

So, instead of taking off points, Charlie went back to work on his own essays, wondering why in the blazing hell would someone go through _all _that effort when they could have just politely pointed out the books.

One night, while out late patrolling the dungeons, Charlie's stomach whined at him, so he decided to drop by the kitchens for a snack. He encountered the humble chocolate monger, noted the disgustingly pleased look on her face, and assigned her a detention for being out past curfew and for whatever horrible thing she did to put that smile on her face. The Slytherin sneered, walked off towards her common room, and Charlie continued on his way, thinking nothing of it.

Walking the few short steps to the painting, Charlie tickled the pear, stepped into the entryway, and blinked. The majority of the elves were huddled around a prep counter, sampling _expensive looking chocolates_. Chocolates that he was _sure _the Slytherin girl he had just bumped into had been showing off earlier today. Combined with that satisfied look after- he just realized this now- she had exited the kitchens, meant that she had planned all of this out.

Charlie's head spun at the backwardness of it all.

These snakes went about helping people and making them smile by acting like complete _arses,_ and coming up with cunning strategies to go about it. Granted, a good number didn't go out of their way, they only looked after themselves and occasionally their housemates, _and_ there were a couple of idiots who really did spend the majority of their free time bullying others. But, they always did little things, the little things that made a small difference.

All while upholding the Slytherin name.

Were they really that desperate to keep up Slytherin House's image of being the meanest?

He just couldn't understand those snakes.

But, remembering the meeting in Flourish and Blotts, he did believe that there was more to people than meets the eye. So, instead of antagonizing any Slytherins as would a proper Gryffindor, he paid them polite courtesy, and they surprisingly returned the favour.

_'Slytherins being polite and secretly nice,' _Charlie mused to himself as he gently folded up the letter, finally found a clean parchment, and set to work on writing his own reply.

_'Who would've thought?'_

Charlie remembered her, the enigmatic little girl he had only met once. Her strange behaviour, the puzzling sadness in her eyes, her brutal honesty and odd secrecy.

_'It's all so weird,_ _strange,'_

He thought about how much of an oddball she had been, that bizarre little friend he had made.

_'Although, I suppose it's a good kind of weird.'_

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A/N: Well, wasn't that sweet? Charlie's a lot sharper than he seems, eh? Or at least, the way I portray him. Was anyone surprised to see that Valeria was still shaken up, even in Flourish and Blotts? She may have decided to be strong while going through Knockturn Alley, but that doesn't necessarily mean she still wasn't effected by it.

In any case, once again guys, thanks for being supportive and overall awesome!

Remember to review!

-Fiction


	10. Potions AKA Daddy Issues 101

A/N: Wait, what's this? Fiction was alive this whole time? I'm going to kill this b****!

Is probably what you guys are thinking as I've neglected updating for the past month. Really sorry about that guys! I've actually moved cities and have been dealing with some issues, which had resulted in writer's block. But thankfully, and for some odd reason, listening to Taylor Swift's music has me typing out paragraphs _like a machine_. Which is _really _weird since I'm not a huge fan of her music (wtf brain?!). And a few of you have PM'd me and pretty much inspired me out of my writer's block. Thanks for that guys! I invited all of you to PM. I fuckin love getting them and reviews.

But holy shit guys, as of right now, _Scourgify _has **103** favourites, **152** followers, **87** reviews, added to **8** communities, and has gotten **8k+** hits. Thanks so much! Flipping my shit 'cause I honestly didn't expect it to get this much attention!

**Guest Reviews!**

Marie: Thanks! And yeah, I kinda figured Hermione wouldn't be the only one who likes to help out elves.

anon: No no, thank you for reviewing and being generally all around awesome!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

**Warning: **Um. Kids, don't drink firewhisky or smoke muggle weed. Contains references to the aforementioned.

Beta: Jin95 (Guys, I got a beta! And this person is awesome! Round of applause please!)

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(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

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**Chapter 10: Potions Class AKA Daddy Issues 101**

Valeria stared at her father.

He stared back.

Well... he stared back as much as he could. He kept switching his gaze to the bowl of fruit, then Vinnie as he tore into his breakfast, the ceiling, and finally back to her.

He gulped.

She blinked.

_'This,' _Valeria thought dryly. _'Isn't getting any less awkward.'_

It had been some weeks since their little 'heart-to-heart', and the excruciatingly awkward dance they performed around one another was still going at a frenzied tempo. Valere was an awkward person by nature, and Valeria was severely uncomfortable with the idea of getting close to a father figure. She wasn't sure if it was because she didn't know how, or because she was frightened of being let down in this life as well. Whatever the case, things were even more awkward than before.

_'Like being stuck in the same room as your one night stand and your parents.'_

Not that Valeria would know. She couldn't recall ever even kissing anyone, let alone having a one night stand. She briefly wondered what she had done with her short adulthood.

_'Oh, that's right. I ran away to my aunt's house and brooded,' _she thought idly. _'I was a brooder.'_

Valeria rolled her eyes at her own silly teenage angst, and cleared her throat. "Father, could you please pass the syrup?"

"Yes, yes. Of course!" The man jumped and, in his desperate haste, practically flung the jug at her, the sticky contents spilling out and oozing down the ends of her hair and dress. He yelped and stuttered out, "S-so s-s-sorry, Valerie!"

"Well, I did ask for it," she huffed out, and the atmosphere around the eating family became even more heavy with awkward tension. Well... not for Victoria and Vinnie. They were completely at ease. She waited patiently while her father fished out his wand, muttering a _scourgify_ under his breath to clear off the syrup.

The little reincarnation frowned longingly at her half finished pancakes, drenched in the syrup. She really missed Canadian maple syrup, the sweet, light golden goodness from her old life. Valeria wondered if Hogwarts might have some, or maybe if she wished hard enough, the Room of Requirement would magic it to Scotland. Her frown deepened at the now cold breakfast in her plate, her father's mournful gaze heavy on her. He sighed when she excused herself from the table.

"H-have a nice day, Valerie dear," the man called out haltingly to his daughter. She fumbled with her chair.

"Oh, uh. Thank you, Father. Likewise," her voice was a little too high, and her smile a little too strained. When Valeria finally rounded the bend towards her chambers, she muttered, "God, this father-daughter stuff is _hard_."

"Is it really?" Ms. Crabbe's amused voice sounded from her frame.

_'How the heck does that even work?' _Valeria thought incredulously, not for the first time. _'Does the oil paint _vibrate _to create sound?'_

She cleared her throat and walked up to her friend, "In case you haven't noticed, your descendant is incredibly awkward. It's like he's been sheltered all his life!"

"He isn't my descendant," the portrait corrected absently. "And that's because he _has _been sheltered for a good portion of his life."

The girl frowned at that, "Really?"

"Did you think he spent his childhood roaming society freely?" Ms. Crabbe asked, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

"No, I wouldn't be surprised if he lived under a rock until he had to marry Mother," Valeria waved it off. "I meant the descendant part. I always assumed you were his ancient grandmother, or something."

"Or something," the painting smirked before muttering to herself. "'Ancient grandmother', do I _look _that ancient to you?"

"No," she admitted freely. "Your skin is very smooth for an old hag. I hope I inherit your complexion when I'm a century old."

The Crabbe swiftly grabbed an apple from the bowl next to her and chucked it at the divide between the two dimensional spaces, growling furiously while the reincarnation grinned deviously. Valeria's gaze was transfixed with the way the oily apple stretched the dimensional fabric, before shooting back to nail the woman right in the eye.

"_Rowena's tits!_" The older woman screamed. Valeria snickered.

"You kind of deserved that," the girl pointed out to the portrait, who was clutching her face in pain. "Child abuse and obliterating the structure of our dimensions is a big no-no."

"Oh please, it was an _apple_. When your father was your age he got the stick," Ms. Crabbe huffed and the girl frowned at that. "In my day, corporal punishment was the norm in raising children; your parents have never even raised a _hand _against you."

"So?" The girl raised a brow.

"So, I'm sure you could take a non-existent fruit without screaming child abuse," the woman glared at her friend's blasé attitude. "And look at you now, all snarky and ungrateful."

"Ungrateful?" The little girl snorted. "Of course I'm grateful. I'm grateful I've had the chance to meet you, father, Charlie, Alice, Binky, and Dobby. I'm grateful to even be _alive_."

The portrait gave her a sidelong glance and bit her lip, "Glad you met _me_?"

"Immeasurably so," the girl smiled.

"Your skills in sucking up are impressively advanced for one who is constantly talking back to her elders."

"What can I say? It's an inborn talent," the girl's saccharine smile morphed into a shit eating grin.

Ms. Crabbe's grin mirrored Valeria's own, "Well, my talented friend, let's hope that instinct of yours can withstand dear Severus' scorn. You'll need it for today."

Valeria's mouth immediately turned down into a dark scowl and she stomped off into her chambers, muttering to herself and opting to ignore her painted friend.

"Have fun at your Potions lesson, Valeria!" Ms. Crabbe hollered at her back jovially, before erupting into evil cackles.

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Severus Snape hated kids.

No two ways about it. He despised every last thing about them, from their endless stupidity to their snot nosed faces. He even hated them when he was a child himself, especially during his time at Hogwarts.

Really, it was a wonder he even agreed to take the post of Potions Master at the old school. Spending the next twenty or so years teaching the little imbeciles how not to kill themselves with their own cauldrons, day in and day out. Severus couldn't have found a better way to torment himself, he'd take even Azkaban over this torture. He found himself wondering, not for the first time, how that old fool Dumbledore managed to convince him to take the blasted job.

Oh.

That's right.

To protect Lily's son.

Severus cursed the old git for playing on his guilt and feelings for the red-haired woman. He didn't care what the wizarding world said, Dumbledore was a manipulative bastard through and through. How was the man even sorted into Gryffindor? He had the heart of a slimy snake, if Severus ever saw one.

It was bad enough he had to play double-spy for the shrivelled up man during the war; now he had him using his old alliances as a means to infiltrate the other Death Eaters' homes. Why even bother with them anymore? They were all too afraid of the Dark Lord to go about reviving him, and the ones that were utterly devoted to the insane man were losing their own minds in Azkaban. It was Severus' vacation time, for Merlin's sake!He'd rather spend it relaxing and experimenting with his potions. Not stuck playing suck up to murderers and Flobberworms.

But no.

Dumbledore just _had _to convince himself that _something_ was up. Never mind the fact that the aged coot wouldn't even tell his 'most trusted ally' what the hell that 'something' _was_. So where does this land Severus? Risking his life and his reputation searching in the homes of Death Eaters. For something he hasn't even a clue what it is!

Is it a Dark Object?

"Oh yes, Severus, it is most definitely a Dark Object."

Well that certainly narrows it down. Now all he had to do was sift through the _countless_ Dark Objects a Death Eater would have, let alone a family like the Malfoys or the Blacks.

"It is not just any Dark Object. If I'm correct, and I dare hope I am not, it is a powerful artefact created by Voldemort that can spell the wizarding world's doom."

Oh, nice, thank you very much, Headmaster. He couldn't have found a better way to amp the pressure and frighten Severus simultaneously. A 'powerful' Dark Object of Doom then, that was simply _stupendous_.

And when the hell were Dark Objects ever _not _powerful?

The old man had sighed at the ex-Death Eater at the time, "Patience, Severus. Patience. All will be revealed in due time."

You'd think Dumbledore was the villainous mastermind, not Voldemort, with the way he goes about hinting at mysterious plans. The Head of Slytherin House had had the most intense and overwhelming desire he had ever experienced to strangle the old professor right then and there. He was now regretting not acting on that wrath.

Severus pinched his nose, trying to clear up the headache forming just behind his forehead. He desperately needed a drink. Swiftly getting out of his armchair, he approached the numerous crystal decanters he had collected after Lily's death and poured himself a glass of his strongest Firewhisky. He downed the shot like it was water and frowned.

Not because of the familiar burning sensation in his throat, nor because his tolerance had grown so strong that he barely felt the alcohol.

No.

He felt as though he shouldn't be trying to get intoxicated at this particular time. Which was ridiculous. It was summer vacation, Severus could drink himself into a miserable stupor as often as he'd want.

He rubbed his forehead.

Severus was forgetting something.

Why was he hating on children and Dumbledore's assigned mission in the first place?

... Bloody hell.

Severus angrily threw his glass across the room, the crystal shards scattering across the floor.

"I was going to ask if I could try some of that," came the unnaturally dry drawl of a child. "But now I'm considering slowly backing out of the room in case you're an angry drunk."

The Potions Master had not been expecting that. So, of course, it caught him by surprise and he whirled around to stare at the partial source of his misery for the past week. In the form of a pointy-faced, eight-year-old student still covered in soot after travelling by Floo, and no doubt tracking the black stuff all over his halls. Severus' stare quickly morphed into that of an irate and accusatory glare.

"Which it would seem you are. Quick question, should I go run and hide before you shove your experimental potions down my throat?"

Tempting, extremely tempting.

But alas.

He doubted his cousin nor her husband would appreciate that.

Opting to pretend he hadn't just displayed a lack of composure in front of his new student, he removed the mess he made with a flick of his wand and strode out of the room, barking orders to follow him. Descending into the comforting coolness of his basement, he made his way down to his brewing room.

Then, promptly marched back up the stairs to demand why the hell the little brat hadn't followed him down.

Severus found her eyeing a framed photo on one of the stands in the hallway, looking at a complete loss. He wouldn't know why she would have that reaction to a childhood photo of him and Lily. Unless she hadn't expected him to have any friends, least of all one that pretty. He would have been surprised too, he supposed.

"Miss Crabbe," he sneered and the girl looked up at the paintings around them in astonishment, as if expecting to see someone she knew in one of the frames. After finding nothing she recognized, she looked up at Severus with confusion swimming in the depths of her grey eyes.

"Where is she?" The little Crabbe demanded, a light note of eagerness in her sharp voice.

What a little idiot. Severus' sneer deepened.

"Are you daft as well as an annoyance?"

"Oh! You meant me. I thought-" the girl stopped herself and shook her. "Never mind. It was silly."

The man's lip curled at the girl's antics, turning to sweep down the stairs of his parents' house. Only to storm back up again to glare at his new pupil.

"Any reason you find it prudent to disobey my instructions, _Miss Crabbe?_" He enquired, attempting to reign in his irritation. She was younger than his usual students, and thus increasingly more prone to bursting into tears in the face of his wrath. At least she wasn't clinging onto him like a barnacle, like the last time Severus saw her.

He suppressed a shudder at the memory. It was still fresh in his mind.

"Um," the girl began, eyes darting around nervously, fingers practically tearing into the fabric of her soot covered cloak. Severus waved his wand silently, the ashes covering the girl disappearing to an unknown dimension.

"Uh, right," she looked down at herself, a little puzzled at the gesture. "Thanks, I guess."

Severus raised a brow at the girl, purposely pointing his wand slowly to the small, dirty tracks left in the hall by the girl. They too, disappeared into the mysterious void.

"Ah," she nodded as if the world righted itself again. "Of course."

They stood there, staring at each other for several minutes, both waiting. A grandfather clock ticked somewhere in the old house. The Crabbe girl cleared her throat with purpose, looking expectant, albeit a little shaky with some worry unknown to the Slytherin. Severus crossed his arms importantly, looking just as expectant. Impatience won out over fear, and the girl huffed.

"Well? Aren't we going to get to the potions business?"

"We will," Severus said with irritation. "So long as you _follow _me."

The girl smiled sheepishly and nodded, although it looked more like a grimace to Severus. Sweeping away with grace, the snake slithered down to the wonderful coolness of the Snape family basement. He strode towards his table, the workbench and cauldrons set up next to it. He looked around and admired his handiwork; the bottled dry ingredients were displayed on one wall on the higher levels of the racks, with the fresher and liquid ingredients taking up residence on the lower shelves, the readymade potions were displayed along another wall, and a collection of books on potions on the third wall. They were all neatly arranged, and an impressive sight indeed. He turned to observe the girl's reaction and further instil awe and respect for the art of potion making, only to find nary a soul in the basement besides himself.

The Potions Master growled and began climbing back up the stairs in righteous fury. He stopped when he saw the girl standing in the doorway at the top. Her head was tilted back, eyes wide with fear, lips pressed in a thin line. Tremors ran up and down her body. She appeared to be staring down the steps to _hell_, the devil greeting her at the front door.

Ah.

If Severus were to be completely honest, he was a little miffed. He wasn't _trying _to be scary. If he was, the eight-year-old child would be in tears by now.

The girl audibly gulped.

"Miss Crabbe," the frustration was practically brewing beneath the surface. "Why is it so _hard _for you to follow instructions?"

"I can't help it, I'm a rebel," the words came tumbling out of her mouth almost against her will. She winced at the glare he pierced her with. "That's your _basement._"

"And this is a problem because..." Severus trailed off dryly. He briefly considered using Legilimency, simply because getting her to spit out what she was thinking was like trying to pry Madame Pomfrey from a sick student.

The idea of delving into an eight-year-old's mind, particularly this one, made his sallow skin turn a shade greener.

"My mother told me not to follow strange men into their basements," the girl hesitantly admitted. Severus thought he saw a hint of wry amusement flash in those grey eyes, but it quickly went back to fear and trepidation. It almost felt like, for that split second, he was looking at another set of grey eyes he hadn't seen in little over a decade.

Choosing to ignore the insult hidden in that comment, Severus simply raised a brow and said, "Your mother has also asked me to teach you the art of potion making. My workspace... the classroom is in the basement."

"So you won't be cutting me up and using my organs for potions ingredients?" There was a hint of desperate hope in her voice.

"The idea is sounding more and more attractive the longer we stand here," Snape glowered up at Victoria's brood. The child blanched. He resisted the urge to strangle something.

"I am a man of a questionable moral code, but I would not lay a hand against my... family," at that word Severus' lip curled and his little cousin visibly cringed at the reminder. He was pretty sure she gagged a little.

The feeling was mutual.

Steeling herself, the little Crabbe nodded and quickly made her way down the steps. Severus stayed where he was to make sure she _actually_ found her way down, instead of staring blankly at another one of his photos or something equally ridiculous. He almost wished he hadn't, because he heard her mutter something most peculiar under her breath while she passed by him.

"... Get over yourself, Val! You liked Snape well enough when you were Valerie..."

Which was a very strange thing to say, indeed. It only served to confuse Severus, and almost make him wish he was never related to her in the first place.

Or Victoria.

Really, he wished he wasn't related to _any _of them.

Sighing through his nose, he followed the girl down to his chilly workroom. It was the ideal temperature for brewing potions, and reminded him of the dungeons in Hogwarts. Severus preened a little at the gobsmacked expression of his cousin, who was currently ogling the room with reckless abandon. It truly was a sight.

Severus summoned up two desks and a set of chairs. Indicating one of the spots, he commanded, "Sit."

The girl snapped to attention, and sat in the chair, her back ramrod straight and alert. Severus sat behind his own desk and steepled his hands, glaring at the little girl across from him. He took his time eyeing his relative.

The Crabbe girl practically radiated nervous energy; stiff posture, on the edge of her seat, fumbling with the ends of her silver lined cloak, and shoulders practically up to her ears. Her black hair, which was stringy and appeared unkempt the last he saw of her, was all over the place due to her Floo travel. There was even a piece that curled in on itself on the top of her head. He was sure her slightly sallow skin would have looked healthier if she spent a little more time out and about. Her mother mentioned she locks herself up in her room to read and do Merlin knows what.

Not that Severus had a right to say anything, he liked to lock himself up just as much and had even sallower skin.

His eyes narrowed even further at the little girl.

Severus could definitely see the Prince blood in her. He would have even gone so far as to say she took after the Prince's more so than her father's blood- if it wasn't for her eyes and her face. It was almost uncanny how much she looked like a Crabbe or a Black, despite the obvious Prince colouring. Those two wizarding families intermingled their bloodlines back in the day so often, they bore many resemblances to each other. He was fairly sure Sirius Black's grandmother was a Crabbe, and looking at the girl's eyes, he could believe it. If her stormy grey eyes shone with mischief, he was certain he wouldn't be able to distinguish them from his arch nemesis'.

It was a fortunate thing her features did not lean towards the aristocratic look, like Black's did. Instead, they were pointy; pointy nose, pointy chin, and he was sure as she grew up and lost her baby fat, she'd have prominent cheekbones, if not pointy ones. The only thing Severus could find that was not pointed about the girls features, were her eyebrows.

Instead of seeing that blasted Gryffindor's face in hers, he saw another one with the same grey eyes. The nervous look her eyes had been sporting since she arrived here helped in reminding him that she was _not _that person and was-

Severus quirked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. The girl was spacing out now, lost in her own thoughts with her eyes clouded over. It practically transformed her face, the pinched look smoothing out and relaxing.

Now he knew why none of the pureblood adults ever felt comfortable looking at her face.

This little girl really _was_ the mirror image of that person.

How could her parents stand to look at her? He knew Lucius' lip curled an extra degree just for her, and he saw Narcissa stare sadly at the girl when she thought no one would see.

He wondered if the girl even knew how much she unnerved the Death Eater families.

Speaking of Death Eaters...

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the impending headache.

To no one's surprise, Severus did not find this notorious Dark Object of Doom. So what did Dumbledore have him do? Tutor the children of these Death Eaters in the hopes they'll let something slip.

A farfetched hope, true, but what could Severus say? Screw you, Dumbledore, you manipulative prick? The man was his bloody boss, he needed a paycheck no matter how much he liked to pretend he didn't.

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"You know," the sharp voice broke Severus out of his self-pitying thoughts. "I'm very much relieved I'm not screaming bloody murder while you harvest the organs from my body, but I'm a little disappointed with this lesson."

Severus lazily drew his eyes to the girl.

"Actually, I'm extremely disappointed with it."

The snake levelled a glare at the sassy eight-year-old.

"I mean, it's been... what? An hour? And all we've done is sit here and stare at each other," the girl elaborated, her chin propped up on her fist. "I sincerely hope my mother isn't paying you for this."

"She isn't," he replied irately. "And you've arrived extremely early."

The girl seemed surprised at this. Whether it was at the lack of payment or the time, Severus didn't know.

"Oh, Sevvy. You do realize this isn't a nine-to-five job, don't you?" Her expression morphed into an almost condescending look. "Neither my mother nor I care about the exact time. We can start early and finish early."

'Sevvy' curled his lip and gave her his darkest look, "I do not like having to repeat myself. We will start at the appointed time."

"And why would you have to repeat yourself, Ickle Sevvy-kins?" The girl snickered to herself as though enjoying her own private joke. She probably was.

"Because, _Valeria_," Severus' lip curled further at the name. "We have another student joining us today."

"What?" Her brows furrowed at those words. She looked beside her at the extra desk. "Oh. _Oh._"

The girl took a moment to think before she narrowed her eyes at the chair and leaned back into her own, "_No..._"

"Professor Snape," came a polite voice from the stairs, which drastically changed to an unfriendly tone. "_Valeria_."

"_Draco_," the girl growled at the blond who had silently found his way into the basement. They sneered at each other.

"I must be horribly late, Professor, if Valeria is here before me," the Malfoy brat said in an unapologetic manner. "She and her brother are always _terribly _late. They move and think at a sloth like pace."

"Not at all, Draco. Miss Crabbe here simply arrived early," Severus may have sounded bored, but the girl's angry red face was anything but. He paused for effect. "By a whole _hour_."

The girl in question looked to be about to blow a fuse, which was incredibly satisfying to Severus. Both because the girl was _such_ a nuisance, and _that other person_ would never have gotten so riled up.

Severus was enjoying ganging up on this child _far_ more than was appropriate.

"Welcome to Potions, Draco," the girl hissed. "You'll find fitting in here is easy enough. All you have to have is a cauldron full of daddy-issues, and you're _set_."

Severus glared balefully at the girl. While Draco's desperate need to please his father was obvious to even a troll, he did not think the little Crabbe would have known about his own father.

Victoria's been talking. No surprise there, really.

The boy flushed at the jab, "I could say the same to you."

Crossing her arms, she glared at the boy as he sat down in the seat next to her, "Unlike you, and some other idiots I could name, I recognize and accept the shortcomings in my relationship with my father."

Severus briefly wondered who those other idiots she mentioned were. Actually... Severus could name quite a few himself.

_'British wizarding society, where virtually every witch and wizard has daddy issues of varying degrees.'_

Or maybe it was just that wizards make horrible fathers.

The snake shook his head. He wondered why he hadn't thought of this before.

"How's the head, Valeria?" The Malfoy brat shot back at the raven haired girl. "It must still hurt from that _tragic_ broom incident."

The girl's face, which had been slowly receding back to its normal colour, quickly went from pale, to red, to purple. Severus could practically feel the rage pouring off from her trembling form.

_'Oh, this is _good_.'_

He wished he had some popcorn.

"_You!_" The Crabbe spat angrily at her fellow classmate and continuously jabbed a finger at him. "_Are not allowed to speak of that!_"

"Why?" The boy asked with faux innocence.

"Because it is _forbidden!_" She hissed and clenched her fists. Was that a red spark Severus saw?

"Because you fell from your broom?" The boy ignored her. "Or because you and-"

The little girl flung herself at the blond before he could finish, and a fight commenced posthaste. Or rather, a catfight. They were children after all, and couldn't throw a punch good enough to please their messed up fathers. Angry shouts and grunts of pain emanated from the wrestling pile on the floor of Severus' basement.

"You-"

_Slap!_

"Three-"

_Yank!_

"_Ow!_ Pushed-"

_Scratch!_

"Me-"

_Slap!_

"_Off!_"

_Punch!_

_'Something else happened during this... 'broom incident','_ Severus thought to himself as he watched Draco push the girl off him, and the two brats began to wrestle for dominance like a couple of animals. He was curious as to what transpired, and had the notion of using a bit of Legilimency to find out.

Severus paused to consider this.

He seriously needed to get out more if the dramatics of eight-year-olds were his only entertainment.

Severus' eyes followed the girl as she found a spare vial, and threw it at the blond she was currently duking it out with.

_'She has horrible aim. She won't get very far in Charms.'_

To remedy this, the girl quickly found a wooden stirring spoon and waved it around dangerously. Draco crouched and began to edge around her, his puny fists at the ready. Both of their hairs were messy, their clothes ruffled, and the boy sported a scratch on his arm.

_'It seems they do this often. That stance of his looks practiced.'_

It wasn't a very good stance. He still got whacked on the head.

_'I should probably stop this,' _Severus realized belatedly. He was a firm believer in an orderly conduct in the classroom. It wouldn't do to have his students harmed on his watch.

But then, Severus was also a firm believer that every Malfoy should be taught a good lesson, whenever possible. Merlin knows they needed it.

So, he let the girl get in a couple of more good hits before he trapped the both of them in a body bind. The Malfoy brat looked to have tears in his eyes.

Good.

"I expect _all_ my students to behave appropriately in my classroom," he began. Which was a bald faced lie, he always turned a blind eye whenever the Slytherins were misbehaving. Not that they need to know that.

"That includes _children _such as yourselves. If this ever happens again," Severus gave them an extra stern glare. "Your parents will be hearing about this."

The boy already pale complexion paled even further, but the girl wasn't too bothered. She even rolled her eyes. It seemed Severus would have to find another good threat. It wasn't as if he could take off points and assign a detention. He released the bind and ordered them to sit back down.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making, as there is little foolish wand-waving here, you will hardly believe this is magic," Severus began his famous introductory speech. He narrowed his eyes at the girl as she smirked and gave him _this look_ that practically screamed at him-

" _**-Oh, no he didn't."**_

Severus quickly snapped his gaze away, lest he catch anything else from her mind. He almost never accidentally used Legilimency.

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a couple of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.

"Luckily for you two, you are starting my lessons years earlier than you should be," Severus continued. "We have plenty of time for you to learn, and for me to weed out your incompetence. You will be reading on the theory of potion making, and have it memorized before you even _touch _a cauldron. You will know the properties of each and every ingredient, the effects of near every potion you will brew in Hogwarts."

Severus could see the Crabbe visibly deflate and slouch into her little chair. The look of despair on her face was both insulting and humorous.

"You will learn every stirring method, how to time the brew perfectly, the intricacies of the ageing process, and every way to bottle potions from Borage's Bottling Technique to Merlin's Method. Potions requires a delicate, and practiced hand. As I have said before, potion making is an art."

The girl perked up at that, her attention riveted. Severus eyed her as he said the final part to his modified speech.

"It requires an artist's eye."

And that was that.

The girl smirked devilishly, radiating confidence. Those stormy grey eyes of hers sparked with mischief, and a lone, red fizz ignited underneath her splayed right hand.

Now Severus was certain he was looking at Sirius Black's face.

* * *

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* * *

Severus glared furiously at the little girl in front of him.

"What do you mean _you can't leave yet,_" the professor snarled furiously. He had spent the last hour teaching two hooligans, and an extra hour before that dealing with the female idiot. Now he had to spend even _more _time with it?

"I heard that. I am _not _an it," she grumbled irritably. "Mother said to wait for her to pick me up."

"She said that, did she?" Severus did not phrase it as a question. Suddenly, the little Crabbe's early arrival was overwhelmingly suspicious.

"Yes," the girl audibly gulped, the look of defeat evident in her eyes. "Yes, she did."

They both cringed in mutual frustration with the Prince-turned-Crabbe.

"Want to spend our time in mutual silence?" The girl offered up hesitantly. Severus grabbed onto the magnificent lifeline with all his worth. He nodded immediately, and they both sat on opposite armchairs near the fireplace in comfortable silence.

Which was absolute unicorn piss, and they both knew it. There was nothing comfortable about this turn of events in any way, shape, or form.

Severus knew with an absolute certainty that his cousin, Victoria, was concocting some devious plan. He wasn't sure if it was something as simple as lugging off one of her children on him as a reprieve, using her as a way to get something out of him, or if it was something even more sinister.

Like getting them to _bond_.

This time, Severus couldn't stop the shudder.

He knew there was a reason he didn't spend that much time around his cousin. She had mastered the skill of manipulation, more so than any other Slytherin. Those kinds of people were _dangerous_.

Then again, so were all Slytherins. You couldn't trust them with even a Knut.

It must have been about another hour, before the girl- who was spacing out again- lifted her head in confusion and got up from her chair. She stumbled around like a drunk, staring at the ceiling and tilting her head as if searching for the source of a sound.

"Huh," she muttered to herself. "Nothing."

She then set her gaze on Severus, which he obviously ignored in favour of their agreed silence. The girl just stood there, her eyes burning a question into the side of Severus' head. Several minutes stretched past, and the girl was now practically hopping on the heels of her feet.

"_What?" _The professor hissed out.

"You don't have any Dark Objects," she rushed out eagerly. "Why?"

Severus practically recoiled. Asking about a wizard's stash of Dark Objects was like asking about their stash of porn, or muggle weed.

How did she even know there wasn't a single Dark Object in Severus' possession?

"I beg your pardon?"

"I can't feel any slimy or scary magic," she explained. "I thought a wizard like you would have some."

Severus stared incredulously at the young girl. Did she just say what he thought she said?

"You don't feel any 'slimy magic,'" he repeated in a monotone.

"Well, yeah. There's tons of it all over the place in the Malfoy Manor," she replied, a little frustrated with his questioning. "Don't you feel it too?"

He most definitely did not.

Normal wizards couldn't sense magic in the way that she described. At most, they would feel a slight tingle, or the hairs on the back of their necks would raise. But nothing so precise and obvious as this. Dark magic was insidiously subtle, and would ensnare one's senses before even the most sensitive of magic folk could register something was off.

For whatever strange and unexplainable reason, this Valeria Irma Crabbe was hypersensitive to magic.

_'How odd. Dumbledore would love to hear about this.'_

So, Severus, of course, will keep this to himself.

_'Serves him right.'_

"Of course I feel it too," Severus lied effortlessly.

The girl rolled her eyes, "Why don't you have any then?"

"I do not have a use for any power a Dark Object would grant me," even Severus could hear the superiority and pride in his voice.

"But don't tons of old wizarding families keep old Dark Objects around simply as a family heirloom, or artefact?"

"This is not a wizarding home," he replied simply.

"It's not?" She asked, confused, before her eyes widened in disbelief. "Are we in Cokeworth?"

Severus raised a brow, "Yes."

The girl sat back on her armchair, "Whoa."

She looked at the space around them with a renewed interest. The Crabbe licked her lips nervously and muttered, "I can't believe I'm actually here."

Severus really didn't know what to make of this. He supposed Victoria spoke of every _single _detail about his life, even his hometown.

Her gaze flicked from picture to picture, though there weren't that many. Severus threw out most of them after his mother passed away a few years back. He watched her stare at another picture of him and Lily, during their Hogwarts years. Lily was grinning at the camera, while Severus smiled slightly down at her.

"Alright," she said softly to Lily's image, so softly Severus was sure he wasn't meant to hear it. "Alright. I think I can do this. I already have to deal with one traumatized idiot, what's another? S'not as if I have a choice in the matter anyways."

Oh Merlin.

It was bonding.

This whole _charade _was for _bonding_.

_'Damn you, Victoria!'_

Someone kill him quickly.

_'Please.'_

"Hey, why don't you fix that?" The girl pointed at an old hole in the plaster of the wall. Severus remembered when that hole was made. His father hadn't exactly been pleasant at the time, and it certainly wasn't his happiest childhood memory.

"It's a reminder," he replied cryptically. The girl looked confused for a moment before- and this really astounded Severus- realization dawned on her features.

"Yeah, she kept it too," the girl muttered under breath again, and her eyes glazed over in thought.

Now, Severus wasn't exactly sure what possessed him to do what he did then. Perhaps because he kept entertaining the idea the entire time the Crabbe had been in his home. Or it was the mind bogglingly disenchanted view the child had of the world that drove him into it, or maybe it was the worrying comment she muttered under her breath just then.

But Severus did something very stupid.

He delved into her mind with Legilimency.

_**-I could hear the indistinct shouting and screaming even from our bedroom. Alice grabbed my hand without looking at me and dragged me out into the hall. Her brown curls bounced with the few steps she took to our elder sisters' doorway, and we stopped and stared at the red faces of Cass and our mother. **_

_**"Stop it," Cass shouted as she tugged at her short hair. "Stop trying to argue about it with me!"**_

_**Our other older sister, Riley, shifted uncomfortably in her bed while she stared at the scene in front of her.**_

_**"God, I should have seen this coming," our mother laughed bitterly and shook her head. "First my brother Kieran, now **_**you**_**."**_

_**"What the fuck, Mom?" Cass yelled in disbelief, her eyes wide with incredulity. "That's completely different. I'm **_**gay** _**not-"**_

_**"Shut up!" Our mother shrieked, grabbing the empty mug on the desk. "Shut **_**up!** _**You're not like him!"**_

_**"Well, yeah!" Our eldest sister groaned. "Are you even listening to me? There's a difference between being gay and tr-"**_

_**"Don't **_**say** _**that**_ **word!" **_**The angry mother hurled the mug at the wall and we all jumped. I felt a small presence behind me startle.**_

_**Alice and I turned around to see our younger sister quietly watching from behind us. Her brown eyes looked up at us tiredly. **_

_**"Go back to bed, Ash," I murmured softly.**_

_**"I can't sleep," she whispered back.**_

_**I sighed and ruffled her hair, "Yeah. Neither can we."**_

_**I turned back to look into the room. Alice was still facing us, and our eyes locked. My gaze flickered to the mess the mug made of the wall, to the still arguing women, and back. Her eyes were solemn, and her lips were turned down in a grim frown. It looked so strange on her face. It was always so full of life and beaming with a radiant smile.**_

_**Now she just looked lost and so, so tired.**_

_**...It was in these rare moments that I thought my twin actually **_**looked** _**somewhat like me.**_

"What the hell?!" A sharp shriek shocked Severus out of the trance. The Crabbe girl was glaring angrily at him, affronted. The Slytherin stared blankly at her. She shouted again.

"What the hell did you _do to me!?_"

Severus cleared his throat and decided to ignore the obvious outrage exuding from the girl. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers importantly, ruminating on what he'd just seen. He couldn't recall ever encountering a memory so strange or out of place. Perhaps the girl was highly imaginative, even delusional.

"Answer me!"

There was the possibility that her hypersensitivity to magic was connected to this. Maybe she was also hypersensitive to the memories of others? But where would she even encounter a muggle family...? Diagon Alley, probably.

It was a far-fetched idea for sure, but it would explain why the memory was so strong and prominent in her psyche. There was no possible way she could have _lived _through that moment, after all. Her hypersensitivity would also explain how she even knew Severus was diving into her consciousness. Most wizards and witches untrained in mind magic wouldn't even realize their mindscape was being invaded, let alone a child with unstable magic.

Of course, this hypersensitivity raises other questions and possibilities.

One thing was for certain, however.

The Crabbe's were head-achingly weird and absurd, and he was going to keep all four of them back with a ten-foot pole and several wards. They were the kind of family to cause trouble and unbalance, and Severus be damned if he was going to let them mess with his peaceful solitude.

Severus made a mental note to never use Legilimency on Valeria Crabbe ever again.

What was he even thinking?

Invading the nonsensical mind of an eight-year-old was _begging _for trouble.

"Hey!" The anomaly shoved her face into his, her face red and eyes like molten lava. "I'm talking to you!"

"So it would seem," Severus finally spoke, his voice dry as he used a finger to push the girl's forehead away.

"I know what you did," her eyes narrowed along with his and she pointed an accusing finger at him. "I know what you saw. And don't you try to deny it!

"Don't ever, and I mean _ever _do that to me _again!_" She hissed heatedly, and in that moment Severus knew for certain that she would find a way to get her revenge if he ever used Legilimency on her again.

Not that Severus could care less about the revenge plans of an eight-year-old, nor feel threatened by them. He and the Crabbe girl stared imperiously at each other for several moments, before the girl huffed and turned to sit back in her armchair.

He observed the irate girl muttering angrily to herself in her chair, her fists clenching every now and then. She may have been a Crabbe, but she certainly had the Black temper. It was almost abnormal to see a child so furious.

Severus foresaw anger management in her future.

Whilst pondering the aberration that was Valeria Irma Crabbe, the Slytherin was hit by a sudden and ingenious idea. He knew he had just vowed to maintain a certain distance from the Crabbes, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. He'll finally be done with this stupid mission Dumbledore assigned him.

"Miss Crabbe," Severus used his 'professor voice' to demand attention from the girl. She grunted in response, her glare fixed on one of the lamps. He hoped she wouldn't break it with a bout of accidental magic.

"You mentioned you... felt the magic of the Malfoy's Dark Objects," he paused for her to nod. "Have you ever felt that magic in your own home?"

She paused in thought, "No. I think my father locked the Objects up in a Gringotts vault, because there's not a shred of slimy magic in our home."

Oh, drat. Well, at least Dumbledore won't expect him to break into _that_.

He hoped.

"And at the Malfoy's," he continued quietly. "Was there any... that stood out to you?"

That caught her attention. She tilted her head to eye him suspiciously, "Depends. What do you mean by 'stood out?'"

"Any magic that was..." Severus paused to think about it. "Especially slimy."

"No," she leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers as well, mirroring Severus. "But then, I haven't seen the entirety of the Malfoy Manor. I don't think even Draco has seen explored the whole thing himself."

Severus nodded in thought. If the Malfoy's had this Dark Object of Doom, whose existence was questionable at best, then it was most likely in a private or hidden room. This was most useful.

"Although, I think Mister Malfoy's magic is a bit slimy as well, wouldn't you agree?" The girl mused aloud, piquing Severus' interest.

"You can feel _Malfoy's _magic?"

She rolled her eyes at him, "Uh, _duh_, of course I can."

Severus considered this.

"And what does mine feel like?"

"Yours?" The Crabbe asked, a little surprised. "Well... it's cold, and damp. Like a never ending, dark tunnel... or a dungeon, I suppose." She shrugged.

Severus' eyebrows rose. How curious. He wondered distantly what Lily's magic would have felt like. Probably warm and bright, like sunshine. Or hot and powerful, like a raging inferno... He'd never know.

No one would.

... Severus needed a drink.

He glared at the child keeping him from drowning his sorrows in Firewhisky. She glared back, still displeased with his invasion of her privacy. Another hour had passed, in which they intermittently shot a few glares or scowls at one another in silence. At this point, the girl was laying haphazardly on the armchair, and fiddling with a broken Remembrall she found laying around.

"Hey," she called out lazily. He ignored her.

"Hey, Sevvy," that earned her a lip curl.

"How would a muggle girl who tripped and fell into a hole, end up in Diagon Alley?" She threw the Remembrall up in the air and caught it in the same hand.

"She doesn't," he dismissed the silly question, and turned back to the Potions journal he was reading.

"For argument's sake," the Crabbe threw the crystal ball in the air again. "Say she does." It landed in her hand.

Severus barely even considered it, "She's not a muggle. She's a muggle-born witch."

"And if she's not a witch," the girl held out the Remembrall and looked through it with one eye, staring at Severus . "How did she end up in the centre of the British wizarding world?"

The snake looked up from his journal and examined the girl in front of him. She was testing him, he was sure. It irked him.

"There were several entrances to Diagon Alley before the Leaky Cauldron. It changes every century or so. This hole was one of those forgotten paths," he answered blandly.

The girl considered this and threw the crystal ball in the air again, "I'm sure a muggle wouldn't have activated the old magic."

"Then her mother was a Squib," he snapped and the Remembrall hit the girl right on her forehead. "And if not her mother, than her grandmother."

The Crabbe girl stared at him with her mouth hanging open, before she dissolved into brash laughter and guffaws.

"It's as simple as that, is it Sevvy?" She giggled. "Oh, _Ms. Crabbe! _You over complicate things _far _too much!"

Severus sighed through his nose, and turned back to his journal, ignoring her completely.

He really needed that drink.

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"She's taking a while, isn't she," The Crabbe girl stared glumly at the cold fireplace. The snake nodded quietly.

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Severus rolled his head, getting the cricks out of his neck, and set his journal on the stand next to him. The girl was fast asleep on the armchair across from him in a way that looked severely uncomfortable. He would have laid her down on a sofa or a bed, but Severus was a cold-hearted snake and really didn't care if she woke up with muscle aches and a few cramps. He checked the time.

He hissed under his breath.

It was nine o'clock _in the evening_, and Victoria still hasn't arrived. Maybe she's forgotten her child? At this rate, Severus was prepared to just Floo over with her. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

He should have done that in the first place!

"Sevvy," a groggy voice stretched out the annoying nickname he was recently christened with.

"What is it?" He snapped irritably.

"I'm hungryyy..." she whined, a hand stretching out to reach towards him, her eyes full of tears.

Severus wanted to cry too.

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**SIDE STORY #2**

**In an alternate universe, Severus started lessons with another class in his basement...**

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making, as there is little foolish wand-waving here, you will hardly believe this is magic," Severus began in a quiet, yet intimidating, voice. He looked over his class with a look in his eyes that brooked no contention.

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a couple of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

One girl raised her hand imperiously, her face pinched in consternation.

"Yes, Miss Crabbe?"

"Professor," her high, clear voice pierced the air. "I take great issue with the presence of one of my classmates."

"Oh really? And who might that be?" He raised a brow.

"That," the girl sniffed and pointed to the seat next to her. Severus drew his eyes towards the seat's occupant.

A wraith of black smoke sat uncomfortably in the tiny kids chair, its legs folded up and twisted under the small desk at painful angles. It was currently glaring at the girl next to it with hate-filled red eyes, it's raspy voice whispering and slithering over their ears with various macabre death threats. It exuded a strong killing intent. Severus drew his gaze back to the girl, who's skin had gone a shade paler.

"I don't see what the problem is," Severus said lazily, expertly blocking out the hair-raising voice that emanated from the figure of black smoke.

"Like hell!" The girl slammed her fist into her desk angrily. "That's bloody Voldemort sitting in the chair next to me!"

All eyes moved to stare at the creature sitting in the kids seat, before swiftly looking away. A cry of pain came from one of the boys and the sound of two bodies hitting the floor could be heard, but that mostly went ignored.

"Why is he even here? Shouldn't he be haunting some bloody wood up in Albania, or something?" The girl continued crossly.

"Miss Crabbe, it is not in my place to question nor criticize the activities of my students, and it would be most unprofessional of me to discriminate against them," he responded blankly, to which the girl leapt up with a cry of outrage. "My duty and responsibility is to teach my students in an accepting and neutral manner."

"That's bullshit!" She shouted at him. The old man seated in another kids chair from across the room chuckled at her.

"Language, Miss Crabbe," Albus Dumbledore scolded lightly, his blue eyes twinkling. She shot a menacing glare in response.

"Professor Snape, this- this- creature!" She continued arguing. "Is a murdering psychopath! He's a safety hazard to all the other students!"

"Your concern is heart-warming, but I can assure you that I can take care of myself," Dumbledore piped up jovially, his voice soothing. Another groan of pain came from a boy, but, again, he was mostly ignored.

"Professor Snape!" The Crabbe girl's voice went even higher. "If these two powerful wizards start duking it out in the middle of class, the rest of us could be hit by a curse or a wayward spell! This is a disaster waiting to happen, I demand that you remove them from this class!"

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Miss Crabbe. Both have fulfilled all of the requirements to attend this class," Severus replied coolly. "As you have said so yourself, they must have at least one cauldron full of daddy issues to be here."

"At least kick out the Death Eater," she insisted, indicating a twitchy Barty Crouch Jr. "He's supposed to be in _Azkaban_ right now."

At that remark, Barty screamed in fear, roaring that he will never ever go back to that hellhole. He thrashed, fighting against the restraints that held him there. Another scream came from a boy, but he was yet again vastly ignored in favour of the convict currently chained to his kids seat.

"Your complaint has been noted and taken into consideration, Miss Crabbe," Severus said blandly, drawing the class' attention from the shrieking man. "Should any other students come forward with similar complaints, I will consider removing them from this cla-"

"Any other students?! Have you taken a look at Harry, Neville, or Draco?!" She screamed at the snake. "Draco and Neville are currently knocked out cold because of this thing-" she pointed again at the wraith, "-and Barty Crouch, who _by the way_, tortured his parents to insanity."

All eyes moved to stare at the two eight-year-old boys splayed out on the floor, having fainted from fear.

"And Harry," she pointed at the boy currently twitching and clutching at his forehead. "Is having flashbacks because his parents' murderer _is sitting five feet away from him! _I mean, look at the boy, he's bloody seizing right now!"

The collective eyes of the class turned to look at the Boy-Who-Lived. His body was flopping about like a fish, and he was positively foaming at the mouth.

"This class _is a mess!_"

The Professor took a moment to stare at the three boys in question, before shrugging and waving it off, "While their health is certainly a concern, I hear absolutely no complaints from them. As such, we will continue with class as scheduled."

He turned to the blackboard behind and him and flicked his wand, the chalk magically spelling out the words,

**POTIONS CLASS**

**AKA**

**DADDY ISSUES 101**

Severus turned away from the board and addressed his new class.

"Get your books out."

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A/N: Wellll, I hope that 9k word update was enough to make up for the lateness (probably not, but whatever). Thoughts? Questions? Comments? Leave a review! Or send me a PM, whichever you prefer.

Any guesses as to what this Dark Object of Doom Snape's looking for actually is? Or any guesses as to what Cass was trying to say about their Uncle before she was rudely cut off? The answers are pretty simple. In fact, my beta's first guesses were correct.

BTW guys, after two updates, my review counter went up from 52 to... well, 87. I have a feeling I'll be writing those Perspective chapter requests a lot more often than I anticipated.

**Poll up! **I'm curious as to which House you guys see Valeria joining. Go and vote! (or don't, go live your lives, or some other such nonsense).

Oh yes, and I've updated my profile and added more future Harry Potter stories, so if you're interested in what's coming up next, go take a look!

**One more thing!**

So, there's this Harry Potter fic I've found in the recesses of fanfiction, and it's pretty good. Only when I looked at that stats for it, I was pretty miffed 'cause I felt it deserved a bit more attention than what it's got. It's **Guardian Angel **by chocolatecheesecakes. It's set during the First Wizarding War, stars a werewolf OC, and let me tell you, the way this authoress writes really makes you feel like you're reading from a werewolf's perspective. If you're feeling wolfy, go take a peek and see what you think, you can find it in my favorites. Siriusly.

And that's pretty much it for now!

Remember to review!

-Fiction


	11. Poisson d'Avril

A/N: Hello, folks! Yes, I am back from hell! I'm in a bit of a rush, so I'll keep this short, but I hope you enjoy (you'll probably tear your hair out, but whatever)! You will definitely like how the end of this chapter turns out though.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Beta: Jin95

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**Chapter 11: Poisson d'Avril**

Valeria glared glumly at her seatmates.

The seamstress' measuring tape whirled around Valeria, taking every measurement needed for her new robes. The haughty looking woman muttered to herself, scribbling into her notes and disappearing into the back room. The little girl eyed the curtain she disappeared behind.

They were in a very posh robe shop in _France _of all places, and Valeria would have to admit she was impressed with the place. She wasn't one for aesthetics outside of artwork, but looking at her surroundings, she could _definitely_ appreciate it here.

Her mother looked right at home, sitting comfortably in a plush armchair and reading a fancy looking fashion magazine. She had up and jumped over the English Channel at the break of dawn, dragging Valeria and Binky, who was waiting outside, along with her. According to the Crabbe matriarch, when doing one's important shopping, France was the place to go. That was the only explanation Valeria received.

The mini adult just hoped the seamstress didn't sacrifice comfort for looks.

"Say, mother, what kind of robes are we getting exactly?"

"Hm?" Her mother hummed from the behind the magazine, and flipped to another page. Valeria was surprised she could read it, but then she supposed she was just looking at the pretty pictures.

The girl sighed as the seamstress came back with the fabric, and decided to drop it.

"Never mind."

Once they were done with the robes, they were walking down the streets of the centre of the French wizarding world, _La Ruelle de Fantaisie_. Valeria's French from her past life was rather rusty, but she had the impression it meant something along the lines of 'Fancy Alley'.

They sure knew how to name it.

The buildings and shops were built with an elegant design: gilded windows and signs, the walls painted with pretty pastels, near spotless streets, and dozens of different kinds of flowers adorned the windows and corners of _La Ruelle._ The people were friendly and cultured to top it all off with a cherry.

"Binky," the little girl asked the house elf walking behind them, laden with armfuls of shopping bags. "Do you have any idea what this shopping trip is for?"

The little elf raised a brow, "Miss doesn't know? Miss is-"

"Alright!" Victoria exclaimed, interrupting the pair and coming to a stop in front of a wide area. "I think we're all done here! _Binky!_"

Her shrill cry was responded with a _crack _as the elf disappeared along with their haul. The little reincarnation looked around in confusion. They were standing in front of what looked like some sort of airplane runway, only the aircrafts seemed to be carriages drawn by winged horses. Valeria felt suspicion dawn on her as she eyed the crowd of girls and boys in matching blue robes.

What was the date again?

"Oh, isn't this exciting, Valeria?" Her mother squealed and clutched her little shoulders tightly.

No, this couldn't be right. She was only nine, she still had two years left.

"You can change into your school robes inside the carriage," Victoria continued to chatter inanely. "I suppose this is what happens when you get your supplies at the very last minute."

Valeria choked.

"Mother," she began, her voice strained. "What's all this about?"

"Why, you're off to school, silly little thing!" The plump woman pinched the girl's pale cheeks. "It's the first of September, remember?"

"But I'm _nine!_" The mini adult nearly screamed. "I still have two years left, and this does _not look like King's Cross Station!_"

"Sweetheart, you're confusing yourself with the school Vinnie will be attending! Besides, the extra two years at Beauxbatons are essential for developing yourself as a lady," Victoria continued nonchalantly. "They teach mostly etiquette and the arts, so, it's perfectly fine that you're going to school when your magical core hasn't finished stabilizing yet."

At those words, Valeria felt her heart drop to her feet and her stomach knot itself into a tiny ball of anxiety. "B-B-Beaxbatons," she whispered faintly, her face even paler than before. "Since when... was I going to Beauxbatons... When..."

"Oh, sweetie, don't you remember?" The woman patted her head gently and uttered the very words that Valeria had grown to despise. "We discussed this at dinner."

_We discussed this at dinner..._

_...discussed this at dinner..._

_... at dinner..._

_...dinner..._

The girl screamed wordlessly in frustration, garnering the attention of a few magical folk.

"It's always during _dinner _when you discuss _the important life changing decisions!_"

"Well of course," her mother nodded sagely. "That's when the whole family is there for the discussion."

"_Nobody bloody listens to you during dinner!_"

The girl's hands lifted in a twitchy manner, reminiscent of a deranged killer looking to strangle their next victim. Her face was red and unintelligible sounds of fury escaped her in a broken stream, disturbing the nearby families and causing them to slowly inch away from the mother and daughter. After all, it was quite strange to watch a grown woman lovingly pet a child who had such a murderous aura.

"Beauxbatons," the child snarled and the retreating groups involuntarily flinched. "Oh, of all places, _Beauxbatons...!_"

There was another crack and Binky reappeared, a large trunk in tow. Valeria whirled on the house elf, her eyes twitching. The caretaker took a cautious step back.

"Etiquette classes, Binky. Etiquette classes!" She raged and held up two fingers. "For two years. _Two whole years..!_"

"Isn't it wonderful?" Victoria agreed happily. "You know, I expected Valere to kick up a fuss about you attending a different school, but he hasn't even said a word!"

At that, the girl became deadly silent.

"He doesn't know, does he?" The girl whispered.

The elf hesitated before responding quietly, "Mistress Victoria assured Binky that Master Valere agreed. But... Binky doesn't think so."

"... Nobody knows, Binky," Valeria breathed, horror-struck. "Nobody knows she's shipping me off to a foreign school. I'll essentially become a missing child until Father puts it all together."

Binky cleared her throat, "Miss' brother knows."

"What..?"

"Master Vincent asked me to give you this," the elf slowly extricated a piece of parchment from her pillowcase, as if careful not to startle a wild animal.

"He can write?" The girl asked dully, receiving the letter and opening it up. Inside was a crude, stick-figure drawing of a girl and a boy holding hands. The word 'me' was written under the boy, and 'Valrya' under the girl. The reincarnation teared up.

"Binky, my own brother can't spell my name," she sobbed. "My mother is forcing me to go through the wizarding world's equivalent of finishing school, my father doesn't know where I am, and my own twin can't even _spell my name!_"

The Crabbe family's house elf patted Valeria's hand awkwardly in a show of comfort. Victoria was currently humming to herself, oblivious to the display occurring right next to her.

"This is so wrong... I thought I was going to Hogwarts, Binky," Valeria cried to her caretaker. "I thought I was going to meet Charlie's younger siblings, Harry Potter, Dumbledore, Hagrid and the rest of them. I was supposed to attend Uncle Sev's Potions classes and laugh as he terrorized the Golden Trio. I used to have so much time left with Father and you. I barely know him still, Binky. What do I do?"

The sweet, jarring sound of a crystal bell shattered the moment. Valeria's mother squealed excitedly, shoving the handle of the trunk into the girl's hands, and giving her a none-too-gentle push towards the carriage that the mass of blue was suddenly swarming to. She was effectively swallowed into the crowd, and she turned desperately towards her elven companion.

"Binky! Warn my father where they're sending me!" Valeria hollered over the crowd. "Tell Severus I hid his experimental spells notes in my underwear drawer, tell Draco I hope he rots in hell, and... Tell Ms. Crabbe... Tell her I love her!

"_Binky!_" She gave one last final scream before she disappeared with the blue horde into the carriage.

Victoria frowned thoughtfully and turned to Binky.

"Doesn't Beauxbatons offer an owl service to the students?"

"...Yes."

"Hm."

* * *

(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

* * *

Valeria glared glumly at her seatmates.

The two of them sat as far away from her as possible, remembering the scene from earlier with the tubby woman and the house elf. She narrowed her eyes at them critically, then down at her own robes, and back to them. The girl muttered and growled. The two children tensed uncomfortably.

The Beauxbatons uniform was a pretty thing, all soft silk and a sweet, yet appropriate skirt for the girls. It included a mini cloak thing - Valeria hadn't a clue what it was properly called - covering the shoulders, and tied at the neck with string. A nice hat sat atop her head, all in the same shade of pale blue.

Yes, the uniform certainly was a pretty thing.

Too bad Valeria hated it as soon as she put it on.

She didn't mind the style at all, though it hadn't primarily been a concern for her. She didn't find it particularly constricting, and she was yet again impressed with the French for designing a wonderful _and _comfortable uniform. Oh no, she didn't have a problem with that at all.

The mini adult scrutinized her new year mates. The boy on the left had a perfectly fitted uniform for the male students, and the cerulean of the material contrasted nicely with his dark skin. The other girl, seated uncomfortably close next him, wore a faded second-hand uniform, but it still brought out the blue in her eyes and made her black hair seem darker simultaneously. Valeria's lip curled at them, a tad bit resentful.

Cerulean just wasn't her colour. It didn't go well with her sallow skin, and made her appear even more sickly. Not to mention it did nothing for her eyes. Even she, however, could recognize the irony of not really caring much about fashion, yet still end up envying people who could effortlessly pull of their uniform.

These two would grow into beauties, Valeria was sure.

Meanwhile she was stuck with an unflattering uniform and an ape for a fiancé.

_'I wonder what Hufflepuff would have been like,' _Valeria thought moodily to herself. _'And the thestrals. I wanted to pet a thestral, and Hagrid and Dumbledore are the only ones crazy enough to keep a herd of them. Damn... I really want to go to Hogwarts...'_

"I don't even have a wand," she said aloud in disbelief. "My mother sent me to a magical school without a wand."

"I know!" The boy exclaimed loudly, his chocolate eyes wide. "I just found out I was a wizard and they wouldn't even let me have a wand yet!"

Valeria blinked at him.

"You speak English?"

The other girl gave the Crabbe an unimpressed look, the corners of her pale lips tugging downwards. "Of course we do."

"Oh," Valeria blinked again. "Well that's a relief, I haven't spoken French in almost ten years."

"But you're nine like us, aren't you?" The boy asked in confusion. "How could you have spoken French before you were born?"

The girl, on the other hand, ignored that line of question and glared at the mini adult. "Well, I can't speak French well either. I hope you realize that not only French wizards and witches attend Beauxbatons. Students from _España_, Portugal, and the Netherlands come to this school as well, and their French is broken at best."

"Really?" Valeria asked, intrigued. "What language do they teach in at the school if you have such a diverse population?"

"Oh," the girl seemed taken aback at the question. "Well, French, obviously. The professors are required to provide lessons and homework in English as well, since it is the most widely spoken language. Though _mi hermano_ says they encourage multilingual conversation. He's picked up quite a bit of Dutch and French."

"Ah," Valeria nodded, relieved that there would be English support. "You're from Spain then? Half-blood?"

The girl quickly went back to glaring, blue eyes boiling, and spat, "_Vos británicos _and your obsessions with blood purity. _Es asqueroso_."

"As-ke-ro-so?" The boy looked so lost. "Blood purity?"

"You mean to say it's only us people in the UK who are racist arseholes?" Valeria looked surprised. "I thought the idiocy was more widespread across Europe."

The Spaniard stared hard at the Brit.

"I apologize if I hit a nerve," Valeria continued and scratched the back of her head. "Asking one's magical heritage up in British wizarding society is part of polite conversation. I guess people really just don't give a rat's arse here. That's kind of nice."

"Um," the girl blushed and fumbled. "Uh, no. It is polite conversation in the rest of Europe as well. I suppose there's more than one kind of prejudice in wizarding society."

"Huh?" Valeria tilted her head and blinked in confusion. "I'm confused."

"Same!" The boy groaned. "_Je suis perdu_."

"Nice. An actual native French person," Valeria and the girl turned to look at him. "Would you mind terribly if I practiced my French on you? It's been ten years, like I said."

"I as well," the blue-eyed girl piped in, before scrunching her brows. "Not in ten years, though. You are very _extraño, mi amiga_."

Valeria furrowed her brows as well, "Huh?"

"_Êtes-vous sérieuses?_" The boy sighed, exasperated, shaking his head.

"_Qué_?" The Spanish girl frowned.

"Huh?" Valeria repeated.

"_Hein?_" The French boy raised a brow.

"Could you maybe repeat that?" Valeria demanded seriously.

* * *

(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

* * *

The three children continued on in that fashion for quite a few hours, to their endless frustration. After they landed and successfully tore Valeria away from the Pegasus, they had agreed to speak in English until they had a firmer grasp on the other languages. Valeria was deeply ashamed her French had deteriorated to such a degree, seeing as the boy had a hard time believing she could speak basic French. A group of French-speakers from Luxembourg agreed that she was absolutely abysmal at the language, and that she should just consider herself a complete novice.

A little harsh, but then, Valeria hadn't even taken her French past the ninth grade, so she supposed she shouldn't be too insulted.

It was while they were walking into the front entrance of the lavish and exquisite palace that Valeria was struck with a sudden thought.

"What in the blazes are your names anyway?" She asked, surprising the other two. "I've been calling you Spaniard and Frenchie in my head this whole time."

"Adela Rivero," the girl nodded.

"Right," the boy grinned. "Dante Bellamy."

"Valeria Crabbe," the reincarnation smiled, before frowning again in thought. "I think I'm going to name my firstborn son Dante."

"_Vraiment?_" Dante was shocked. "I'm honoured."

"What?" The girl looked at him incredulously. "Not after you, dimwit. Dante is a cool name."

The two children stared at her in disbelief as the group of first years followed a prefect towards a towering figure that could only be Madame Maxime. The older students streamed past, chatting excitedly as they walked. All the nine-year old eyes, however, were fixed on the giantess before them. One even let out a tiny scream.

Valeria was ninety-nine percent sure it was Dante.

The Headmistress of Beauxbatons smiled invitingly and began to speak animatedly in English to the rest of the students, much to Valeria's relief. She grew bored very fast with the speech, seeing as it was all flowery language, and began to look around the Entrance Hall curiously. The arches were absolutely divine and the Corinthian pillars were so detailed, she was convinced it would have taken muggles months to carve all them so perfectly. The ceiling was covered in murals depicting events in French and European wizarding history.

_'I'll have to ask the Rivero girl what they mean...'_

Valeria had turned around to look at the detailing on the front door, when she caught sight of a very peculiarly dressed person walking into the palace. She was wearing what looked like rich emerald robes, with even more detailing than the palace itself, as if an entire ancient language had been woven into the material with gold thread. Which would have been quite nice, if the young woman hadn't decided to throw on a chest plate, a wooden katana-like-thing, and a war helmet over top the expensive looking robes. _And_ on top of the helmet was a precariously tipped, matching witch's hat, a strange looking 'B' sewn into the front.

_'From the ancient Greek alphabet, I think...'_ the child mused to herself. _'Are... are those __**jeans**__ underneath her robes?'_

It honestly looked like she couldn't decide what she wanted to wear the most, and just mashed it all together.

The Crabbe watched, intrigued, as a professor walked up to the strange woman and demanded to know who she was. The muggle-witch-warrior-thing, whatever she was, calmly flashed some sort of card at the man. He quickly paled and retreated down a hallway, looking frightened for his life. The woman, just like Valeria, looked around curiously at the palace for a few minutes, before she too disappeared down another corridor.

"What the hell?"

Adela delivered a harsh slap to the back of Valeria's head.

"Language," she said sternly, and Dante grabbed their new friend, dragging her as they followed the rest of the quickly disappearing first-years down the hall.

The trio found themselves seated in the Dining Hall. It was smaller than what Valeria imagined Hogwarts' Great Hall to look like, but it was no less beautiful or mysterious. They even had wood nymphs serenading the students and staff as they ate their lunch. The travel to Beauxbatons compared to Hogwarts was a lot shorter, lasting only a few hours and leaving plenty of time on their first day, and time to eat.

Valeria sighed quietly to herself. Despite the eminent danger that came with attending Hogwarts, she had still looked forward to seeing the legendary school. A small part of her was jealous of her brother, for getting to meet the rest of the cast of the _Harry Potter _series. All she got to meet were the evil, cranky, and douchey ones.

She even harboured the tiny hope that her father would come right this wrong and have her set back on her original crash course towards the Plot.

"I can't believe we won't be learning any magic for the next two years," Dante muttered while he ripped at his sandwich.

"And we're not allowed any pets," Valeria added quietly.

"Lighten up you two, it's not that bad," Adela said to them while cautiously sipping from a bowl of _w__aterzooi, _a traditional Belgian stew. It looked quite tasty, and judging from Adela's expression, it was very much so.

"Etiquette classes, Adela," The Crabbe stabbed at her _boeuf bourguignon. _"For two years. _E-ti-quette classes_."

Dante groaned at that.

"If you ask me, you two need it," Adela huffed. "Excuse me if Beauxbatons is too boring and mundane for you."

"What did you say?" Valeria perked up at that and stared at the girl in wonder.

"That you need to learn some manners?"

"No, the other thing."

"Oh. Sorry if Beauxbatons is too normal for you."

"Right," the mini adult murmured to herself in astonishment. "Right, of course."

This was a blessing in disguise. Now it'll be even harder for Valeria to interact with Plot Relevant Characters and interfere with the fabric of fate itself. The reincarnation had been so caught up in every child's dream to go to Hogwarts, she had forgotten her plans to avoid the Plot. She had all but given up on being completely anonymous, what with her brother, his friends, and her Uncle Sev. But now... now she could live relatively peacefully during the school months. She could refuse to go to Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament in six years time, so even that wouldn't be too troublesome.

She was safe.

Valeria was safe.

The Plot was safe.

_'Thank the high heavens!'_

"Pardon me," Valeria said suddenly, emphasizing her polite tone just for Adela, who narrowed her eyes. "But I'm afraid I must go to the loo."

The blue-eyed girl shrugged and rolled her eyes, getting up alongside her. "_Mi hermano_ has been waving me over anyways."

"You're both leaving me?" Dante pouted.

Adela laughed for the first time today, a tinkling sound so pretty, it reminded Valeria of wind chimes. "You can make other friends you know, _mi amigo_."

Her suggestion was for naught; Dante was already turning to chat up the curly-haired girl sitting next to them. They both went their separate ways, and just before Valeria turned the corner, she looked back at her new friends.

_'I quite like the sound of that. Friends...'_

Adela was blushing furiously while her older brother ruffled her hair and introduced her to his friends, the group of them grinning indulgently. Dante had a whole gaggle of girls and a few boys listening intently to one of his jokes.

What a Casanova.

_'I think I _will _name my firstborn son Dante,' _the mini adult smiled to herself.

(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

"I'm lost, damn it, I'm horribly lost!" Valeria screamed at the walls, her shrill voice echoing down the corridors.

It had been a stupid idea to leave the Dining Hall alone, or even without directions. She had previously been wandering for about thirty minutes when she had run into a helpful upperclassmen, who had given her directions to the nearest girls' toilet. The older girl had reassured her she wouldn't miss the rest of lunch, seeing as the French take their midday meal seriously. She had also said something rather bizarre.

"_Poisson d'Avril!_" The girl had giggled and ripped off a paper fish that had been taped to Valeria's back. "_Exacte jour, mais le mois est incorrect!_"

"What?"

"_Vous êtes très drôle!"_

"Uh... you too."

It was a pity Valeria was bad with directions. After the older girl walked off giggling to herself, the mini adult had wandered for an hour, still lost. She was about to give up and cry herself to sleep in a corner in between the long row of decorative vases, when she caught a flash of green from the corner of her eye.

The muwitchior - shortened form of muggle-witch-warrior-thing - was also in the corridor. She was performing some kind of strange and awkward dance, emerald robes sweeping around her, witch's hat barely hanging onto the helmet that was on her head.

Oh.

No.

It was not some kind of foreign dance form.

She was playing with her wooden katana sword thingy.

Valeria was sure it had a proper name, but she couldn't be bothered to remember it. Peering closer at the stick, she noticed some black Kanji she couldn't decipher inked into the handle. So it _was _some kind of katana.

The reincarnation watched, mesmerized, as the muwitchior swung her blade too far, knocked over the farthest vase, and somehow managed to catch the hem of her robes on her sneakers and fall into a heap on the marble floor. There was an epic domino effect as the vase slowly tipped over into the next, a monstrous noise erupting and echoing throughout the palace as the simultaneous sound of over a dozen crashes mingled together.

She could practically hear the sound of thousands of Galleons clinking down the gutter.

The muwitchior looked at the mess, bewildered, her helmet askew and her witch's hat and sword clutched tightly in her hands. The young woman looked around nervously for any witnesses, and her green eyes caught with Valeria's. They stared at each other for several minutes, expressions blank as stone.

_'Oh, now this isn't awkward at all.'_

Valeria wanted to cry. Her first day in school and she was already witness to some kind of misfit's crime.

_'Hm? There's something off about-'_

A spine-chilling scream pierced the air, and the two girls whipped their heads around to see a senior student shrieking his head off like a rabid banshee. Valeria supposed she might react the same to the vandalism of her precious school's vases. Probably.

Actually, no. She really couldn't care less and would probably be the vandal herself.

Quick as a snake, the muwitchior dove into a tapestry hung on the wall next to her, disappearing into what was most likely a hidden passage. The weird student shot off down the hail, still screaming his head off. Valeria pursued the slightly unhinged boy.

He'd probably lead her back to the Dining Hall, after all.

Or better yet, a girls' toilet.

Or even his nest. Valeria could use a nice nest right about now.

The nine-year-old wheezed as she chased after him. She knew he was older and she had the body of a child, but this was ridiculous. The guy was running at top speed and screaming his little lungs out, he should be slowing down, not _gaining speed_. He quickly disappeared from sight, but it wasn't that big of a problem. She could still hear his shrill screaming after all, and followed that instead.

Eventually, Valeria finally found herself back at the Dining Hall.

_'But no girls' toilet. Damn you, boy.'_

Gasping and panting, the girl trudged over to Adela and Dante, who were seated together again. Valeria plopped down next to them, and promptly face-planted into the pudding in front of her.

"I'm telling you, it's a fish!" Dante insisted. Valeria lifted her face from the bowl and caught the tail end of hushed whispers.

_"..there's a...ta..."_

She looked around tiredly, and noted with complete and utter confusion that the other students were hunched together and looking around fearfully, the staff nowhere to be seen. The only ones who were perfectly fine, albeit confused as well, were a couple of the first years and Dante. The muggleborns, most likely.

"What? Did Voldemort rise from the dead or something?"

Adela hit the Crabbe over the head for the second time.

"No, really. What's going on?"

"They're talking about a breed of fish," Dante replied seriously. Valeria turned back to the Rivero girl.

"That true?"

The mini adult was surprised to see that Adela's face was unnaturally pale, terror hidden deep within the depths of her blue eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She looked about to reveal a horrifying truth to the two of them, but then stopped. Swallowing down her fear, the girl plastered a smile on her face.

"Adela?"

"Of course it isn't a fish," the Spanish girl answered shakily. "They're obviously talking about a wolf pack."

"No, it's a fish," Dante argued.

"Wolf pack, Bellamy."

"What kind of fish was it again?" Valeria asked suspiciously.

"A b-" Dante was rudely cut off by Adela's hand.

"Don't say the name!" She hissed. "Please, just... don't say it."

Dante and Valeria looked at each other, puzzled, then back at Adela worriedly. She was obviously fighting to keep the smile on her face.

"It's a type of fish, I swear," Dante supplied, helpfully diffusing the tension.

Adela's eyes shone with gratitude, "Wolf pack."

"No, it's a buffalo," Valeria chimed in, causing the two to stare at her incredulously. "What? So we're not talking about animals or something?"

After only a few minutes of this bantering, the staff returned looking the worse for wear, and the prefects swiftly got up and ordered the first years to follow them outside the Dining Hall.

"We'll be going on a tour of the Academy's palace for the rest of the day until dinner," the boy began speaking to the nine-year-olds as they walked. "When you return next year, you'll have this time to settle in and catch up with your friends, _vous me comprenez_?"

"_Luister naar mij_, _kinderen_, there will be no talk of that... creature," the other prefect hissed out the last word. "You are _veilig _here with us, there is no such thing as... that thing. It is but mythical figure, a legend.

"It is not _reëel_," she said that last bit harshly, turning to look the first years in the eyes, daring anyone to argue with her.

"Did any of you understand what she was saying?" Valeria whispered to her friends. "Because as far as I got, we're not allowed to speak of the mythical wolf-fish hybrid."

"I think it was Dutch," Dante answered thoughtfully. "Though I do not know what _veilig _means."

Adela shook her head about to say something, when a shout cut her off and her brother came rushing towards them. He was as pale as his sister, and his eyes an even more vibrant blue. They spoke rapidly in Spanish, too fast for Valeria to catch, not that she'd understand anyways. It _was _a very beautiful language though, and with Adela as her friend, Valeria was bound to pick up a few basic phrases.

"_Peut-être_ _mes petites sœurs_ _ont la magie aussi_," Dante sighed to himself. "That would be amazing."

"You have younger sisters?" Valeria whispered curiously while the Rivero siblings argued.

"Yes, four of them," Dante grinned. " We'd have quite the adventure here at the Academy."

"If you see any cases of accidental magic, like random sparks of light or inexplicable things occurring, that's a sign of a witch or wizard child," Valeria grinned back. "Though you wouldn't be able to tell if all of them have the gift or just one."

Adela turned back to them, gesturing to her brother, "Valeria, Dante, this is _mi hermano_ Miguel. Miguel, these are my new friends."

"Pleasure," Miguel nodded seriously, a frown stretching across his face. One of the prefects looked back.

"Miguel," the female prefect looked surprise and slowed down her pace to walk beside them. "_Wat ben je aan het doen?_"

"_De beta is hier. Ik ben niet van plan om mijn zus met rust te laten,_" he replied easily in Dutch. The older girl frowned.

"_Het bestaat niet. Het is niet echt_," she insisted. "_Je bent belachelijkI._"

"_Ik ben niet van plan om dat risico te nemen, Amelia!_" Miguel nearly yelled in frustration. Amelia gave an exasperated sigh, walked back to the front to her fellow prefect, and resumed pointing out different paintings and rooms.

"What was that all about?" Dante scratched the back of his ear. Valeria shrugged and looked back at Adela, who was grimacing and staring pointedly at the ground.

"I am here to make sure my sister is sa-" Miguel began, but cut himself off when his sister snapped her head back up to shoot him a pleading look. "I am simply here to walk with my sister as she gets her first look at our Academy."

The look of relief welling in Adela's eyes was palpable, and Miguel replied with a strained smile. Valeria in turn frowned at Adela. It was as if she was trying to protect the two them from some terrifying situation they were stuck in. It irked Valeria, being protected by a child. Usually, when she wasn't screwing with their minds, _she _was the one looking out for the other kids. It was what she had done, even in her past life. Now Adela's actions seemed even more unnatural when Valeria had an older mind.

_'She reminds me of myself at that age,' _Valeria realized belatedly.

"Adela, do you have any younger siblings?" The mini adult asked quietly. Adela and Miguel were surprised.

"Yes. Arturo, he'll be turning four this year," Adela answered, her forehead scrunching in anxiety and worry. "Miguel and I look after him. I find myself worrying now that I'm away."

"Well that explains your near neurotic need to protect," Valeria snorted. "Trust me, I once knew a girl with a younger sister around the same age difference. You and your little brother are both better off relaxing."

Miguel gave a short chuckle and Adela blushed furiously.

"Are we lost?" Dante stopped and asked nervously. They looked around to find that they had been left behind.

Miguel shrugged. "No matter, they'll be looking at the armoury by now. I will lead us there."

* * *

(V)(°,,,,°)(V)

* * *

Valeria leaned back into her chair, absolutely stuffed and content. Beauxbatons had comfy dining chairs instead of benches, and if she tried this at Hogwarts, she'd find herself falling out of her seat.

"The food here is incredible," Valeria let out a loud belch alongside Dante. 'You French really do take your food seriously."

"And you two _really _need those etiquette classes," Adela scrunched her nose up in disgust. "You have horrid table manners."

"I'm actually quite tame next to my brother. He's a beast."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I don't. I've seen things, Adela. Terrible things. My cousins are worse than mon-" Dante's serious face morphed into one of excitement. "Oooh, _déserts!_"

Valeria quickly snatched up an assortment of Belgian chocolates, "These are mine."

"Those chocolates are the best kind," Dante nodded sagely. Adela rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips and the tension gone from her shoulders.

Good.

"So, Adela," the mini adult began nonchalantly. "Why is everybody so afraid of this wolf-fish hybrid?"

The girl frowned and picked at her carrot cake, but was luckily relaxed enough to speak calmly, "It is a myth well known around these parts. No one has ever laid eyes on one, but that doesn't mean much when it comes to that creature. They wouldn't remember meeting it.

"Or still exist," she finished quietly.

The reincarnation's spine stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"The very nature of this being bends reality. It can remove you from the very fabric of our universe, every trace of your existence gone from the memories of those that once knew you. With a wave of its hand, it can alter the very course of your life," the Rivero girl continued. "There are many other beings that tie into reality: Fate, Truth, Dream, Life, Death, the list goes on. But the one that is said to interfere the most often in our world, besides Life and Death of course, is the one we speak of."

"Is that why everyone is so frightened?" Valeria inquired. "They're afraid of ceasing to exist?"

Adela nodded mutely.

Dante whispered, "_C'est une terrible créature_."

"If this thing is powerful enough to bend reality, it can probably do so without encountering you directly," the Crabbe said flatly. "There's no stopping it and there's no sense in being afraid."

The Spaniard blinked, "Well, when you put it like that... I suppose there really is no sense in fearing the b-"

A bloodcurdling scream cut off the little girl, snapping the attention of the entire Dining Hall. The boy who screamed had stood up and lifted a shaky finger to point at the towering double doors of the Hall.

There, stood a strange looking figure.

A strangely familiar figure.

A figure dressed in beautiful emerald robes, armor, and carrying a wooden sword.

It took all of two seconds for the screaming to start, the mass hysteria taking over the entirety of the room. Students jumped up and ran from the room, sobbing, begging for mercy, or just plain shrieking. The cowardly professors Apparated from the room in an instant, along with several students who were of age. The wood nymphs had stopped singing entirely, and were now screeching at such high notes, Valeria wasn't sure if her ears or their throats would start bleeding first.

In all this, the feared mythical being stood calmly at the front doors, ignoring the fearful children darting around her and away from the Dining Hall. She scanned the room, her green eyes caught Valeria's, and she smiled.

Valeria felt her heart stop in fear.

She advanced towards the table at a leisurely pace. A kid, running blindly, knocked into her and they both fell to the marble floor.

"_Adela!_" Miguel's yell broke her out of her thoughts and she looked at her friends. Adela was frozen with terror, and Dante... was still eating his crème brulée. He even looked content.

_'What the hell, Dante!?'_

Miguel grabbed his sister and lifted her up in his arms, snapping the Rivero girl out of her own fear.

"_Miguel , mis amigos! Es después de Valeria ! Tienes que ayudar a ellos!_" Adela screamed over the noise of the Hall and struggled with her brother. "Valeria! I saw her look into your eyes! She is after you! You must run!"

"_No hay tiempo para esto, Adela!_" Miguel shouted and he tried hauling her off. She grabbed onto Dante's sleeve, the silk tearing at the violent action.

"_No puedo dejar a mis amigos atrás!_" She shrieked back at him. In response he shouted for Amelia over his shoulder. The Dutch girl came running over, snatching at Dante and pulling him up and away from his food, her face grim.

"Hey!" He pouted. "I thought Valeria said there's no point in running!"

"For her there isn't," Miguel replied harshly, before turning his blue eyes to the Crabbe, his eyes pained. "I am so sorry, but I cannot leave my sister here. I won't let her become a casualty."

Valeria nodded, dazed. He secured his grip on his sister and hightailed it out of there along with Amelia and Dante, Adela's wide terrified eyes the last thing she saw before they disappeared into the crowd, her desperate cries ringing in the reincarnation's ear.

She stared dumly after them, even as the horde quickly vanished and the Hall was emptied.

"Hi," a genial voice greeted her calmly. Valeria blinked and turned to see the muwitchior- fish- wolf- hybrid thing, whatever it was, standing before her. Honestly, she just looked like a regular young woman to the Crabbe.

"Hello," came Valeria's anxious reply. The little girl blinked again, rubbing at her eyes.

"Is this seat taken?"

The Crabbe stared at her in disbelief, "No."

"Oh, goodie," the strangely dressed girl sat down swiftly, and turned to smile at her. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Valeria was most definitely thrown, "Uh... Likewise?"

They sat there in silence, the woman sitting next to her smiling dreamily. The little girl cleared her throat, blinking furiously, "You don't look like a wolf-fish hybrid."

"And you don't look like a crab," the woman quirked an sat in silence again for several more moments.

"Alright, that's enough," Valeria slammed her hands down impatiently, trying to focus her sight on the strange girl next to her and failing. "What the hell are you and why are you here?!"

"Me?" The woman asked, taken aback. "I'm just a regular old beta."

Valeria stared hard, her eyes going cross-eyed for some reason that escapes her. "A beta?"

"Yes."

"Oh, of _course_. Like a betta fish," the Crabbe slapped her palm to her forehead. "Or a second in command in a wolf's hierarchy."

"I suppose so, yes."

"And why are-" Valeria cut herself off and gaped at something off to the side. "_What in the world did you do to that poor boy?!_"

The kid who had knocked into the beta earlier was now curled up into a tiny ball, rocking himself back and forth in a catatonic state, muttering incomprehensible things under his breath. The beta turned to look at him as well and cocked her head in confusion.

"He scraped his knee, so I patched him up," she replied, just as confused. "I'm not entirely sure why he's like that."

Indeed, there was a super cool Spider Man Band-Aid slapped onto his knee.

"Fear, perhaps," the little girl pondered aloud.

"You think?" The beta was surprised.

"Probably."

"... How strange."

Valeria snorted, looking back at the young woman, "You're telling me."

She gasped when she realized why her sight had been so awry ever since the beta entered the room. The little girl looked away, then darted a swift glance back, and shook her head at the strange phenomenon.

Her eyes couldn't focus on the beta's face.

It was almost as if she wasn't _allowed _to see her facial features. It made it all the more confusing when she could distinguish her expressions but not her actual face. Her eyes didn't know where to focus and her brain was having trouble processing what she saw.

_'So bizarre...'_

"And all I came here to do was fix a little mistake in the continuum," the beta sighed wearily. The Crabbe girl stiffened at those words, apprehensive once again.

"So what Adela said was true then? You can alter and bend reality at your fancy?"

"Well, it's not as simple as that, obviously," the beta frowned. "I can't just change things all will-nilly. I can only fix the mistakes that need fixing, Valerie."

At that, Valeria's heart stopped for the second time to day. She froze involuntarily at the sound of her former name.

"You know."

"Know what?" The beta tilted her head quizzically.

"What I am. Where I come from."

"Oh, that. Yes, I know you are a reincarnation from another dimension. Funny thing, the way it happ- _Ooooh, chocolate!_"

The beta stopped talking and immediately snatched up Valeria's assortment of Belgian chocolates. She stuffed a handful in her face excitedly, looking up to see the little girl's very unamused face. She held out the box.

"Want some?"

"No thank you," Valeria growled. The young woman quickly snatched back the box and continued snacking.

"Anyways, There was a misfiling somewhere down in the Fate department. When Death got a hold of your soul, she happened to be Life at the time. I can't fathom why he'd drop you in the Universe of Magic though, let alone the Crabbe family."

"'Death happened to be life at the time'...? How could Death and Life possibly be the same being?" Valeria gawked at the beta.

"Well, of course they'd be one and the same. Death and Life are two sides of the same coin, so why not two sides of the same being?" The beta popped another chocolate in her mouth and continued talking nonchalantly. "Although, if you ask me, Life can be such an arse sometimes."

The girl paused to eat yet another of Valeria's chocolates. She smiled.

"Death is so much sweeter."

The Crabbe gulped.

"So, that's it then?" The little girl trembled. "You're going to 'fix' me, erase my existence from this world."

She stared at her shaky hands, hopelessness flooding her. This time, her trouble focusing her sight had nothing to do with the odd magic of the beta, and everything to do with tears forming in her eyes.

This was it then.

Valeria supposed she couldn't complain. Fate had granted her an extra nine years, mistake or not. The reincarnation just couldn't help but feel she had been cheated for a second time, that Fate, Life, Death, and whatever else were secretly laughing at her bleak existence.

After all, what was the point in dumping her in this magical place and taking it all away before she even got a chance to fully explore it? It was obviously to make a joke out of her, to tear her away from a fantastic dream and the new family and friends she'd been gifted with for too short a while.

Her eyes widened when she realized she'd never see them again.

She'd never again take a nap in the sunshine with her brother, never see another fantastical display of elven magic from Binky. Her mother won't smile at the sight of her and pet her hair, there won't be another time when she has to nurse Errol back to health after delivering a letter from Charlie. The engagement agreement with the Goyles will never implode on itself, and she'll never have another brawl with that idiot Draco. She won't get the chance to hide another of Uncle Sev's precious items in some obscure and embarrassing place, and that muggle Alice will never see her again like she wanted.

Valeria will never tame a dragon.

The Crabbe will never see Hogwarts.

She'll never tell Ms. Crabbe how much she loved and appreciated her company.

And she won't ever truly get to know her father.

The mini adult breathed shallowly, trying to recall the faces of those who had so rudely barged into her new life. She could see mournful grey eyes and complicated runes sprawled over a desk, an uncanny smile, black stringy hair. She could feel a tall presence behind her as Charlie read over her shoulder, the parchment of the dragon encyclopaedia, fat fingers wrap around her own and a soft head nuzzle next to her in a crib. The smells of several potions and damp basement filled her nostrils, the faded scent of oil paint accompanying grey eyes lost in thought. The quiet mutterings of Binky were faint in her ears, the screams of a boy loud in her head as she viciously pulled at silky blond hair. Excited blue eyes, pretty strawberry blond hair, chatters of pet dragons.

Wrestling with a little brown-haired girl over a bag of candy, petting her head as the child cried and wept. A gentle smile, brown eyes smiling as her older sister moved a chess piece across the board. Brash laughter and short hair, an argument over every single little thing. The husky timbre of her aunt's voice and manicured nails braiding her hair. Nights with a flashlight under the cover, reading stories and giggling with her twin, a piercing bark ripping through the air.

She didn't want to die again.

She didn't want to leave.

"What?" The beta laughed, the loud sound jarring Valeria. "No, of course not. Don't work yourself up into a tizzy. Nobody wants you gone. Except for maybe Death, but that's just 'cause she thinks Life is unnecessarily cruel to living souls. Not that he isn't, cruel, I mean. Sometimes I wonder how they even manage to share the same existence, they're absolute polar opposites! But anyways, no I'm not here for that."

"So you're not going to erase me from this world?" The little girl asked with wide eyes. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh thank god," the reincarnation sagged with relief. "Thank you."

"You're welcome!"

"I wasn't-" Valeria rolled her eyes and stopped. "Never mind. Why are you here then? Why are you even talking to me?"

"Why, because I need to fix you of course," the beta said merrily as she popped more chocolate in her mouth.

Valeria's mouth dropped open and she gaped at the woman. "I thought you just said you weren't here to fix me!'

"Well obviously I'm here to fix you since I sought you out," the beta reached for more chocolate, grabbing at an empty box. She frowned and snapped her fingers, a new box appearing in her other hand. "But I'm not here to erase you. In fact, I only need one thing from you."

"One thing? What is it?"

Was it her memories? A friendship, a bond? Some facet of her personality?

"A day."

"A day," Valeria repeated blankly. "That's it? You'll be taking a day from me?"

"Just the one."

Valeria eyed her suspiciously. She was acting nonchalant, stuffing herself full of free gourmet chocolates_,_ but there had to be more to it. A mythical being didn't just come strolling into a school and sending the entire inhabitants into a mass frenzy of fear for a measly old day.

"Which day?"

"Today."

"Today?" The mini adult scrunched her brows. "My enrollment into Beauxbatons? That's what you're here to change?"

"Mhm," the beta hummed through a mouthful of decadent chocolate and gulped it down. "Fate was having an off day and did something very stupid. The rest aren't very happy with this development and are demanding an immediate change. And seeing as I'm but an unpaid intern - that's what a beta is, mind you_-_ I'm the one that gets to go out and change it.

"You see, Valerie? You're destined for Hogwarts. The castle is eagerly awaiting you arrival," the beta smiled kindly and offered another chocolate.

Valeria didn't feel too happy about that. She gazed at the chocolate piece and the swirls of vanilla meticulously placed on its surface, pondering what this meant for her and everything that has happened in the last twelve hours.

"What if I don't want to go to Hogwarts?" She asked quietly.

The beta shifted uncomfortably.

"I can't really say why you have to go_,"_ the young woman finally responded. "But you have to. All I can tell you is that you will regret not going. You will regret it for the rest of your life, and by the time you finally realize it, it'll be too late."

"But... It's a whole day," she whispered. "A lot can happen in a day. You can get hit by a Mac truck and die. Your life can change forever, you can meet new people, forge new bonds. You'll learn things you'll never get the chance to know otherwise. Like, that a muggleborn with four younger sisters hopes desperately that they have magic like him, or that a girl who dotes on her baby brother is doted on by her elder brother."

"I know," the beta replied sadly, her green eyes gentle.

"Will I ever see them again?"

"Only Time will tell," she replied. "That one's finicky though, I'd keep my eye on Time. When you're not paying attention, he'll get away from you without you ever noticing."

Valeria snorted. "Right."

"Well?" The beta asked after laughing for a bit. She held out the chocolate piece again. This time, Valeria noticed the Greek letter Beta in vanilla on the chocolate, same as the letter sewn in gold on the beta's hat. She reached out, paused, hesitating before she decisively took the chocolate from the unpaid intern in front of her.

Silence ensued, the only sound in the Dining Hall the quiet mutterings of the catatonic boy curled up in the breathed, then shoved the chocolate in her mouth. Just before she bit into it, she heard the sound of running footsteps, and two figures skidded to a halt in front of the double doors.

The last thing she saw as she tasted the sweet chocolate were the worried brown eyes of Dante Bellamy, and the hand of Adela Rivero reaching out desperately.

The Dining Hall melted away with her cry.

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The reincarnation's eyes snapped open and she gasped, whipping her head back and forth to look at her surroundings.

Valeria Crabbe was standing on the curb of an empty street, the thick lines of a crosswalk stretched out before her all the way to the sidewalk on the opposite side. A lone, iron streetlamp stood tall on the curb across from her, the only light piercing through the fog that surrounded this area.

It looked strangely familiar.

"Where am I?"

"We're in Limbo," a voice sounded from behind her and startled the reincarnation. She turned to see the beta had followed her to this strange place.

Limbo?

Like the place Harry went to after he sacrificed himself?

"So you did end up killing me!" Valeria yelped. "You said you wouldn't!"

The young woman frowned and took off her helmet along with her hat. "I didn't kill you. Limbo isn't only for those passing on into death. It is the representation of transition, the place one goes when changing their fate, their reality. You need to pass through here like you did when you passed away."

"...What?" The beta asked after several moments of Valeria staring at her head.

"Your hair..."

She quickly brought a hand up to pat her brown hair. The top half was completely squished to her head after wearing the helmet for so long, and the ends frizzed out in every direction.

"It looks professionally done if I brush it before it dries," she said defensively. "I just didn't have time today."

"Right, 'cause that one's a finicky little bastard," Valeria sniggered.

"You catch on quick, my friend," the beta chuckled and waved at the girl. "Off you go then."

"Off where?" Valeria raised a brow and looked behind her. "Across the stre-"

The girl gasped, shocked, "No..."

"No what?"

"This is where I died!" The reincarnation shouted. "I was mowed over by a damn Mac truck right over there!"

And just after she was finished shouting, a wide pool of silvery blood spread over the lines of the crosswalk. Spatters of the silver substance reached all the way to where Valeria's feet were standing. She felt sick staring at her own lifeblood.

"Oh, is that what it looks like to you?" The beta cocked her head. "Makes sense I suppose. Bit gruesome, but it makes sense."

"Do I _have _to cross _that_?"

"It's either crossing that, or I beat you senseless with my _bokuto_," the young woman sighed and tapped her wooden sword. "And I'd rather not hit a child."

Valeria quickly went from being green, to extremely pale. The little girl groaned, "There's no helping it then."

She turned back to the street and was about to step off the curb, when she felt the beta rip something off her back. The girl turned around to glare, but ended up staring at the paper fish in the strangely dressed figure's hand.

"_Poisson d'Avril!_" The beta shouted, laughing.

"Why the hell are people constantly taping paper fish to my back?!" Valeria yelled. "And what the heck is 'April's Fish?'"

"It's a prank the French play on each other on April 1st," she explained. "April Fools!"

The reincarnation rolled her eyes and stomped off, following the lines of the crosswalk and the spatter of her own blood. She stopped halfway, turning around to look back at the beta, trying to focus her eyes on the young woman's face.

"What's your name?" She shouted across the space. The beta grinned at the mini adult, green eyes sparkling.

"They call me Jin, intern number 95!"

A loud honk blared in Valeria's ears. Her heart pounded in her chest, recognizing this sound, this series of events. Two beams of light blinded her eyes, and she raised an arm to block it out. Then, impact as the truck slammed into her body, sending her flying, crashing back into reality.

And now...

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**APRIL FOOLS GUYS!**

**No, this day never happened.**

A/N: This chapter didn't turn out the way I expected it to, but I think it turned out okay. When I was originally thinking this up, I considered having myself walk in and reap the seams of this reality, but then thought it would be too presumptuous of me. Then I was like,

"I'll just have my beta cameo on in here!"

Thankfully, she agreed (obviously). We had a lot of fun with this, and seeing as how most people up on the poll I put up would be gunning for my immediate demise should I send her to Beauxbatons, I thought this was the perfect prank for April Fools.

Btw, to that one person who voted for Valeria to go to Beauxbatons, can you please PM me so we can be bestfriendsforever, you wonderful troll, you!

**One last thing**! There was a mix-up with 100th chapter. A guest got that review, but it didn't go up on the review counter due to some moderation rules. Thus I agonized over what to do, before I decided to just write two should the guest somehow get back to me by leaving another review or something. I don't know. You know who you are! That said, to avoid something like that again, guest reviewers: should you happen to get the 50th review, please don't expect a bonus chapter if you don't get back to me and choose the perspective you want. All you need is an email to make an account. That said, if a guest doesn't get back to me, I'll just mosey on over to the next reviewer. Thanks everyone!

Toodles!

-Fiction


	12. Narcissa I: Bonus

A/N: So, this morning while I was brewing my tea, I had come to the sudden realization that I did not, in fact, like cream and sugar with my tea. I like to have _tea_ with my cream and sugar, and also that I should probably post that chapter I had finished a few weeks ago.

Hence the update.

Some of you will notice that I haven't responded yet to your reviews. I'm in the middle of that. I've also decided to just generally thank the one-liners in the next update. I mean, how am I supposed to respond to a laugh? Laugh back? Thank you, by the way, for the review.

I would also like to say, I had never anticipated someone choosing a Narcissa POV. The story behind this whole chapter I have is something I had planned to only ever imply, and it was originally supposed to be in Valeria's perspective without her noticing a thing. I'm beginning to wonder if you guys might uncover hidden subplots by picking certain character POV's. Thankfully, there's a group of characters that play an important role that I'm beginning to think no one would realize they could request POV's from.

Anywho,

Enjoy the Narcissa perspective request.

Disclaimer: Don't own HP. Thankfully not, as I'd probably screw with the plot too much.

Beta: Jin95

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**Chapter 12: Narcissa I**

Narcissa walked behind the four children in front of her, a calm mask fixed upon her face. Magical folk strolled past her on the street, surging around her in an unrelenting stream. A high pitched voice emanated from the group of children, scolding and whining at the boys.

Keep calm, Narcissa. Posture must be perfect.

She had been concentrating so much in keeping her composure, she wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed or how they had gotten from point A to point B. They could have Apparated and the Malfoy would never have been able to tell the difference. The only girl among the children walked up to her, her face expectant.

Back straight!

Do not slouch.

_Do not show weakness._

The blonde woman smiled down at the girl, the perfect replication of calm. The nail of her forefinger scratched incessantly at the pad of her thumb, a nervous tic easily hidden. She'd have to have Dobby bring her Murtlap Essence if it bled.

"Madame Malfoy," the girl began politely, excitement brimming under the surface, tainted with frustration no doubt aimed at the boys. The Malfoy had almost expected the girl to call her 'Narcissa'.

She thanked every star she hadn't done so.

"Yes?" Narcissa had to forcefully remind herself that she wasn't talking to who she thought she was. "Valeria."

The girl paused, the unintentional hesitation before her name catching her notice. Black stringy hair, pointy face, slightly sallow skin, and quizzical grey eyes blinked back at her. The walking dead ringer.

Such a painful reminder.

_'I did nothing,' _the thought passed through Narcissa's mind so often, it had become a mantra of sorts. _'I did nothing.'_

The double entendre of the words was agonizingly obvious to her.

"Are you alright, Madame Malfoy?" The girl had finally decided on that line of questioning. She wished she hadn't. It meant the Malfoy Matriarch was having more trouble controlling herself than she thought she did.

She tried to think of her son when she looked at her face. They all had the same grey eyes, if one bothered to look they would see the resemblance. The Blacks originally had those distinctive grey eyes, it was their family marker, and any other pureblood child who popped up with the eyes could claim blood relation to her family. Narcissa tried so hard to see Draco when she looked down at the little girl.

It didn't work.

She'd always see someone else.

"I am perfectly fine," Narcissa replied evenly, her tone practiced.

The Malfoy Matriarch would always be perfectly fine.

"Okay," the girl nodded, unfazed. It bothered her, how dismissive she was of Narcissa's wellbeing.

Did she care at all?

The blonde woman gave herself a firm mental shake. This was Valeria, Draco's friend. Thinking of her as someone long dead... that path lead to madness.

"I was wondering if we might be able peruse the shop over there," the little girl pointed over her shoulder with a thumb and scowled. "The uncultured swine with us are insisting not to."

The woman tilted her head to look behind the girl, and her smile fell off completely. Narcissa was frozen from head to toe. Looking at the old shop, _Faddey's Foreign Fascinations_, had the former Black feeling like she'd been Apparated all the way back to 1970. A faint pang of heartache echoed in her chest, and she herself felt like a little girl again, surrounded by her sisters and distant cousins, on a trip just like this one.

But they were all gone.

Only she was left.

Just Narcissa.

"Madame Malfoy?" The high, clear voice was alarmed and confused. "We don't have to go in if you don't want to. I can go another time."

The blonde blinked slowly and took in a sharp breath. Narcissa could deal with a bit of heartache. She was used to it, after all.

She plastered on a stern face and stared at the little girl, "I would prefer it if you did not refer to my son as an 'uncultured swine', Valeria."

Her voice was unrelenting, and the little girl's eyes almost rolled, muttering to herself quietly.

So she did care, at least a little.

How nice.

Narcissa smiled gently and lead the way into the shop, posture stiff with intent. The little girl dragged her brother along, the other two boys grumbling to themselves as they followed the Malfoy Matriarch into the 'weird' shop.

The store's focus was exotic trinkets and merchandise from other wizarding cultures. Other witches and wizards had different methods of accomplishing certain effects, some easier, some highly complicated. All were fascinating, as the shop's name lead one to believe. The Egyptian's Eye of Horus was featured as a powerful warding symbol against evil, talisman's from several different cultures to protect against the evil eye, little wooden totem poles representing a spirit or guide, yin and yang symbols for balance, the list goes on. There were things from countless wizarding cultures, it made anyone dizzy by simply walking inside.

Well, that _and_ the incense.

The former Black allowed herself to sink into her thoughts while the little ones examined the contents of the shop, bickering quietly. To Narcissa, the shop hadn't changed in almost twenty years. She remembered it as if it had been yesterday, when another young girl- some years older than Valeria was now- dragged the rest of them in the shop. Grey eyes twinkling with interest, and the eyes of the others bored or fascinated, much like the group of children with Narcissa now.

All gone.

They were all lost to her. Her sister's soul was slowly being sucked away, little by little, in Azkaban far from her, the other abandoning them all for filth, estranged. The rest were either in Azkaban as well, dead, or locked away in their studies, drawing up circles in a desperate attempt to stay connected to their loved ones.

_'How does he stand it? Looking at her...'_

She was a perfect replica.

It hurt.

It hurt so _much_.

It was as if the view of that little girl, the one she had known so long ago, was just in reach, at the tips of her fingers. But no matter how far she stretched, she could never reach, never see that person again. Valeria was not her. Not the same. That person was long dead, long buried in the ground.

Narcissa could feel the sadness well up inside her.

She had no right to be sad. She had the perfect life. She had a wonderful pureblood husband, a beautiful pureblood son, and lots and lots of money.

_Lots_ of it.

But they were all gone.

_'All gone.'_

A chapter of Narcissa's life erased forever.

_'I did nothing,' _the mantra echoed quietly in her mind, over and over again. It calmed her, and stabbed her with shame all at once.

Gone.

_All gone._

But... _she_ didn't have to be.

Narcissa stared at the little girl as she rummaged around the East Asian portion of the shop, scolding her brother for dropping a jade piece. The raven-haired girl's hand emerged clutching a black ribbon, an eerily familiar pink pendant hanging from it. The Crabbe hung the pendant in front of her face, one eye closed while the other narrowed, inspecting the little charm.

The Malfoy smiled sadly at the action.

Another girl with raven hair had done the same thing, once upon a time.

"What kind of charm is this?" The girl asked no one in particular, poking at one of the petals of the pendant.

"It is a memory charm," Narcissa replied quietly, eyes fixed on the necklace. "It stores the precious memories of the owner, so that they might never forget."

The girl's eyes widened in surprise.

"How'd you know that?"

The woman made sure to freeze her smile in place lest it slip, and spoke coolly, "I once knew a girl with the same pendant. It's a cherry blossom, did you know?"

The girl hummed, fiddling with the jewelled pendant.

"Are you going to purchase it?" The blonde asked curiously, despite herself.

"I want to, but it's a lot of Galleons," the Crabbe frowned. "Mother didn't give my brother and I enough pocket money."

Narcissa swiftly grabbed the ribbon from Valeria's hand and made her way to the clerk, before the little girl could begin protest. She dumped her pouch on the counter, the clinking sounds of coins loud in the empty shop.

"I will buy it for you."

The Crabbe gaped at the older woman, her grey eyes wide with shock. She stuttered out a thank you and waited patiently with Narcissa as the clerk rang up the purchase. The necklace was quickly wrapped up in a little paper bag, and the group was once again strolling down the streets of Diagon Alley. The blonde woman petted the stringy hair of the little girl twice, an excited grin on her childlike face.

Keep calm, Narcissa. Posture must be perfect.

She couldn't help staring down at her face, those grey eyes that were lost in thought, no doubt picking out the memories she never wanted to forget. They were so much like that person's, it was uncanny. The pointy face, black hair, pale skin, the Black family eyes...

She was gone.

They were all gone...

All _gone_...

Except for her.

Valeria Crabbe was still here. Yes, she didn't have to be gone. Valeria didn't have to lose her life senselessly.

_'I did nothing,' _the mantra echoed constantly, always looping in the back of her mind. _'I did nothing.'_

But this time she would.

This time, Narcissa would be doing _something_.

She won't let the past repeat itself.

The Crabbe won't die this time around.

_'I did nothing.'_

"Thank you, Madame Malfoy," the little girl turned to grin up at the blonde woman. "I never want to forget."

_'Neither do I.'_

Back straight, Narcissa!

Do not slouch.

Do not show weakness.

"You are very welcome, Valeria," Narcissa smiled back.

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A/N: Well. I hope that was enjoyable. Short and sweet, as they like to say. Thoughts, questions, comments? Please review or send a PM.

**Important note! **After we hit 200 reviews, I'm changing the request gifts to every 100 reviews. I did not expect to be writing a POV gift chapter almost every chapter. At this rate, we'll be reading about that random cashier from _Flourish and Blotts _and her damn thoughts on Valeria and co. But really guys, thanks for the reviews and support. Like I said, I did not expect to get that many. It's greatly appreciated.

**On the April Fools Prank**. I got a surprising amount of positive feedback for it. I regret nothing. For those of you who were confused (because I wasn't clear enough), it did actually happen, but the day was erased from everyone's memories and time was rewound. Make sense? The point of it was for a good natured prank, yes, but also for foreshadowing, characterization, world building, and my explanation for how Valeria was reborn into Harry Potter. I always knew how it happened, but never found a way to reveal it, as is the case for many subplots I have in _Scourgify_ that will probably never see the light of day. There very much is a Dante Bellamy and Adela Rivero attending Beauxbatons, and they might even make a reappearance (I got unnecessarily attached).

**Random but kind of cool note! **I found a program on Steam that is basically a VN (Visual Novel) builder for dummies (For those of you who don't know, it's like a book in the form of a choice-based game). I originally got it because it was on sale and I thought it would be a fun thing to write joke VN's for my friends, but then I had the bright idea of making an AU _Scourgify_ VN. I honestly don't know what is going to become of it, and I'm limited to free artwork and music I find online. The only thing I know is that it is severely AU, has multiple story lines that connect in an overarching plot, stars Valeria, features an F!Harry, and is extremely fun to write. Oh, and according to my beta who played the prologue, it is apparently cool and looks professionally done (yay). Like I said, I have no idea where it's going, or if you guys will even get to see it (like how am I supposed to get it to you guys?)

But don't worry, it doesn't detract from the time it takes to write _Scourgify_. I only write it when I have writer's block.

**Guest Reviews!**

Janus: Why thank you very much! That's okay, I did not expect a lot of people to like the April Fools prank (surprising amount did, actually). I hope with the continuation of Scourgify, you will forgive my grievous prank (I regret nothing). With your review, it has suddenly occurred to me that I have so many hidden subplots, that the _actual_ premise isn't even clear yet. But yeah, I thought being reborn into the Crabbe's would have been funny, and thus here we are. Hope you enjoyed.

Marie: Wacky was a very apt way of describing the last chapter. Glad you enjoyed it and appreciated how it fit into the plot of _Scourgify._

Kelly: There's a description above about the April Fools chapter. It's funny though, I didn't expect people to start calling her Valerie. Even my beta calls her that.

Anon: I get the feeling I won't be able to keep all these different 'Anon' and 'anon' reviewers straight in my head. Is this the same Anon reviewer as last time, or the one who reviewed at the very beginning... I'll never know. The point of it all, basically. Alas, Valeria does not have any blood relation to Riddle, at least not any more than the canon Crabbe and Black families were related to him. A cool plot twist I kind of wish I came up with. And yes, there will be more Valere/Valeria bonding.

Guest: *High fives back* Canadians unite!

suzaan: Thank you. Your enthusiasm is inspiring. I'm afraid I can't answer your questions on future events, all except for one. Valeria will not be finding a spell to magically make her 'beautiful'. For many reasons, one of which is that I personally don't find it a concern and neither does she. Honestly, the way I see beauty is through someone's character and not their physical appearance. I look at a person who may not be conventionally pretty, and find them to still be beautiful. So really, in my eyes, Valeria is already pretty, despite what other characters might think. I think it's sweet that you want Valeria to have an easier time at Hogwarts, but a beauty spell is just not feasible. On another note, I also find Valere's reactions to his daughters hilarious. Look forward to more. :)

Think that's it.

Good day,

-Fiction

PS. No, no, no, I will not be responding to the rest of the reviews tonight. It's almost 2 am and I didn't even sleep the night before. I hate insomnia. I will be replying to the reviews tomorrow or the day after.


	13. The Valerians

A/N: Hiya, folks!

I have to admit, I am very impressed with you guys. Despite my having put up on my profile that this chapter was done almost a month ago, not one of you went all ragefest on me for not updating. There were very kind and friendly reminders to update, with me going, "Ahahahahahaha—**_no._**"

BUT SERIOUSLY! Thanks for all the kind, positive reviews! I've gotten, like, zero flames, and the criticism I did get was quite helpful.

I tried writing this chapter to reflect the everyday lives of the Crabbes and their associates. Hope it reads like it.

**WARNING: **Multiple POVs. Brace yourselves.

Also, you'll notice I changed the romance genre to humour. This fic is dragging on and it'll take ages to get to into anything remotely romantic. Sorry about that.

Disclaimer: I own a very nice smelling candle, but not Harry Potter.

Beta: Jin95

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**Chapter 13: The Valerians**

Valeria yawned, her eyes scrunching up and her mouth stretching into an obscenely large O. After several moments, she moved to pick up her violin again and stopped. Her eyes were hooded as she stared at her old instrument, and she immediately decided she was too tired to do much of anything. Which, of course, meant that she should go find her one and only brother.

"Vinnie," the young reincarnation called out lazily as she threw open the doors of his playroom. She stepped over a broken broomstick and found him terrorizing his figurine set. The miniature people were running away en masse, little screams of terror ripping out of their tiny throats. One young man found himself scooped up in a giant meaty fist, and his limbs slowly ripped out of their ball joint sockets. Valeria didn't even bat an eyelash as his cries for help hit her ears.

"There's one hiding beneath your body pile," she pointed out helpfully and continued drawling nonchalantly. "I think this is your biggest massacre yet. I'm honestly surprised they haven't started fighting back though; they should be standing up for themselves if they want to survive your playroom."

Her brother grunted in acknowledgement and ripped the head off the little girl Valeria had so heartlessly outed. The mini adult yawned again.

"Say, you want to go hang out?" she asked sleepily. "It must get tiring decimating miniature villages."

He nodded in response and, to the figurines' great relief, took her hand to lead the way. The twins found themselves out in the yard, the rolling green plains stretching on for miles and the afternoon sun gently warming the tops of their little heads. They both tipped back, landing in the soft grass and curling around each other for a nice, long nap.

This was the only activity Valeria could get her brother to enjoy quiet company. That is, when he was knocked out cold during nap time. She didn't mind so much, if she were to be perfectly honest. The mini adult missed the time when they shared a crib. A baby craves human contact, no matter the mental age, and the feel of having someone close at all times was very comforting—when they weren't throwing punches or kicks.

"Been a while since we had some quality time together, hasn't it," she murmured quietly, enjoying the feel of the sun's rays on her closed eyelids. "I miss sibling companionship..."

After some time had passed, Valeria popped an eye open to stare incredulously at Vinnie's shirt pocket. "Your shirt is wriggling and making an ungodly amount of noise. Did you hide another chocolate frog in your clothing again?"

The boy grunted and popped the button. A minute, wailing woman crawled desperately out of the folds of his clothing, climbing and tripping frantically down the hills of the child's torso to freedom.

It was a dream crushed before it ever began.

A chubby fist wrapped its fingers around the figurine, just as she hit the grass and emitted a small cry of hope. It was a sad sight, really. She cried out for help, begging the giant boy to have mercy, for his sister to save her. The fat, sausage-like fingers of another hand leisurely made its way to her flailing limbs.

"No, no!" She shrieked. "_Please no!_"

Valeria closed her eyes and found herself finally drifting off to sleep, with screeches of horror and the distinct sound of ball joints being savagely ripped from their sockets singing her a lullaby.

She dreamt vividly.

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A few hours later, Valeria was rudely awakened from a strange dream of ball jointed people riding on the backs of giant, edible frogs. She blinked groggily at the man crouched over her, the setting sun casting the edges of his raven hair in an orange and gold glow. His grey eyes grew wearier when she pouted sleepily up at him. Despite being mostly absent during her life, even her father knew she wasn't the most agreeable person after being forcibly woken up.

"Go 'way," she grumbled, and gave him an almighty slap across the face.

Yes, Valeria really _wasn't _the most agreeable person.

"Valerie, dear, it's time for dinner," her father sighed, gently prodding at the faint slap mark on his cheek.

"No it's not," she yawned. "Vinnie would have woken up on the dot and demanded we make our way to the family dining room."

"He did," the man cleared his throat awkwardly. "Wake up, I mean. Hours ago."

"What?" The girl asked in disbelief, shocked, and looked around her to find the grass void of fat children. "He left me all alone..."

Oh wait.

Not entirely.

The remains of the ball jointed lady was still twitching spastically.

They both ignored it.

"The traitorous bastard," she growled lowly and flipped over in the grass, nuzzling into the soft greenery. Her father gave a long suffering sigh.

"Please don't call your brother a bastard," Valere said. "Your mother will take offense."

"He's my twin brother, I can call him whatever I want," she protested. "Now go away."

"I figured as much," the man sighed again and swiftly gathered his daughter in his arms.

"_Hey!_" Valeria yelped and smacked him over the head. "Put me down right this instant!"

"No can do, Valerie," her father replied calmly, before making his way to their home post-haste.

The reincarnation grabbed a handful of his black hair and pulled roughly, "I'm not even _hungry_!"

"Yes, well, you've missed dinner a couple of times the past month," the man's calm voice did not waver. It gave the impression he was used to such treatment.

The girl used her other hand to slap at his face. He still remained unfazed. "You'd miss a few dinners too if you had to spend the day with our dear cousin Sevvy."

"Oh?" There was a vicious poke to his eye. He flinched away in time.

"The man's an absolute terror."

"It must run in the family then."

There was silence for a few moments.

"That's _it,_" the little girl hissed and ceased her assault on her father's head. Instead, she grabbed his nipples through his shirt and twisted violently.

A loud scream could be heard echoing around the Crabbe family home, but no one really seemed to care to investigate.

It was a common occurrence, after all.

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"Valere! What in the world happened to your breasts?" Victoria Crabbe demanded loudly, a bit of meat dangling from her mouth. She stared at the man in open-mouthed wonder, or more specifically, the two piles of ice cubes magicked to stick to his chest.

While the scream the entire household heard wasn't anything new, _that_ certainly was.

"I had a grievous moment of misjudgment," the man replied glumly, adjusting his ice cube bra. "I've learned my lesson now."

"Good," their daughter muttered vindictively, tearing at the steak on her plate with murderous intent. She sat primly in her seat, back ramrod straight. Victoria felt a surge of pride at her daughter's excellent posture.

"You did that then?" Her voice reflected the satisfaction she felt in her youngest child. Her husband looked up in disbelief at her tone.

"Oh, yes," the child's voice was unusually high-pitched before it lowered ominously. "Vinnie's next."

Victoria's only son looked up from his own plate, sauce covering the lower half of his unusually shocked face. It was quite a change from the blank expression Vinnie usually wore, and there was a brief flash of fear as he watched his sister stare into his eyes evenly while she repeatedly stabbed at her steak. The boy grabbed his plate and swiftly exited the room.

Her children were _so _adorable.

"Yeah, you better run," her sweet daughter growled, still massacring the food on her plate, and muttered to herself. "I can't believe he _left _me there. He _never _leaves me."

"Perhaps a little separation is good," Victoria's husband suggested quietly. Her daughter scoffed.

"Separation? There's plenty of separation. We once slept in the same crib and literally used to spend every waking minute together," The girl scoffed again and muttered to herself. "'_Separation_', my arse..."

"Valeria, dear," Victoria cut in. "That is no language for a pureblood lady."

"Good thing I'm not a lady yet then," the girl snarked. "I can still curse and hand out purple nurples for a few years yet."

Very true.

Although, judging from the look on her husband's face, he doubted she'd ever become a real lady. He looked absolutely heartbroken. Well, that wouldn't do. Perhaps Victoria should go leave a bit of suggestive lingerie in his chambers to lift his spirits?

Yes, she'll have to do just that.

Said man looked up worriedly at his daughter, "Valerie, do you have any idea what Vinnie is up to these days in his playroom?"

"Just the usual chaos and destruction," the girl replied easily, smirking a bit as she eyed her father's ice cube bra. "Complete anarchy, really. Why?"

"Oh," the man sighed and adjusted his bra again. "I was just passing by earlier to pick you up, when I heard some strange noises coming from his room."

"Strange noises?" Victoria asked, alarmed. Was her son in any trouble?

"Yes," her husband scratched his head, a little confused. "It sounded like... chanting."

The woman relaxed, relieved to hear it was only 'chanting'. That didn't sound dangerous at all.

"Well, that doesn't sound even remotely disturbing," their little girl's tone was dry. But then, that was the girl's usual tone half the time.

Even her daughter thought everything was fine. Valeria was a little genius, if she thought everything was all right, then surely it must be.

Victoria gazed at her youngest child fondly. She will grow up to be a fine lady.

"Father, you might want to take that off soon," the girl added offhandedly in between bites, pointing at the mounds on his chest. "You might freeze off your tits."

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Severus was mighty pissed.

The man couldn't even enjoy his spring break in peace without his cousin hauling her daughter off on him. He'd made a promise with himself to keep that family away from him as much as possible, but the little vermin kept worming their way back into his company.

It was the twins' tenth birthday it would seem, although he had been sure their birthday had been sometime in April, not March. Convenient how her date of birth seemed to coincide with Hogwarts' scheduled spring break, especially since Victoria kept insisting the girl's greatest birthday wish was to spend the entirety of the day with _him_.

He highly doubted that was true, as they both couldn't stand each other. Severus will admit there were times where their actions or words would inspire a hint of intrigue or a heated intellectual debate, but they really mostly preferred to never see each other's faces.

Ever.

There had been a spark of hope when Severus replied to his cousin's letter, claiming he had a responsibility to look after the students staying at Hogwarts for the break. Severus was _such _a devoted teacher, after all. He just wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing his students _needed_ him and he wasn't _there_ for them.

Not a single one of them decided to remain for the holidays that year.

But really, that didn't matter in the slightest. Severus was a filthy liar after all, being a double spy, and it was no skin off his back to lie to his own blood. Which was exactly what he had done while writing his reply to dear Victoria. Severus had really thought he dodged an Unforgivable there.

He was so very wrong.

Severus should have expected Victoria to write to Dumbledore, despite her intense dislike for the warlock. The woman was like a leech, once she latched on she never let go, and Dumbledore was all too happy to throw him to the dogs. Or rather, the Crabbes. The old coot thought that the whole charade was a splendid idea and 'good for Severus'. Utter bull, if you asked him.

In any case, Severus was now stuck chaperoning a visit to Diagon Alley. To his complete horror, the Slytherin had been expected to not only accompany little Valeria Crabbe, but also her idiot brother and the other two brats they played with. Granted, he was used to Draco after tutoring him for almost two years, but he was slowly growing into his Malfoy heritage and becoming a tremendously insufferable _prat_.

Severus wasn't even going to touch on the Ape, a nickname Valeria had come up with that he found surprisingly succinct when it came to the Goyle boy.

It took over a dozen letters, five threats, and a bribe to get Victoria to agree to have her son occupied with something else for their birthday. Because if there was one thing the Potions Master refused to touch with a ten-foot sceptre, it was Vincent Crabbe. He would take even the mildly insane Crabbe girl over him any day. Severus had taken one look at the boy's utterly blank face and declared him a lost cause and an absolute imbecile. It was going to be troublesome when the twins came to Hogwarts, and he was going to have to find a way to hide their relation, but for now all he had to deal with was the girl.

Severus stomped out of the Crabbe's fireplace and stormed down the hall towards their living room.

He just couldn't fathom why Victoria was so _obsessed_ with cultivating a bond between him and her daughter! So far, it'd been nearly two years and the girl hasn't shown the slightest sign of taking advantage of their 'closeness' and attempting to get something out of him for her mother. And it wasn't as if the girl even remotely enjoyed his company, she actually-

The man paused and looked down at the floor.

He lifted his foot slowly, examining the remains of a rogue chocolate frog smashed all over the bottom of his shoe and the Crabbe's carpet. The Slytherin's eye twitched and a vein throbbed in his temple, imagining every which way he could savagely murder the careless idiot who left a piece of candy to wander the halls.

It was probably Vincent.

He was going to enjoy tormenting him when the little imbecile came to Hogwarts.

A faint war cry caught Severus' attention and he noticed a chocolate-covered minuscule body attacking his other shoe with a needle. Putting his soiled foot back on the ground and rearing his besieged foot back, he let loose on the small figure all his frustration and anger towards the Crabbe family and Dumbledore. The wooden thing flew down the hall at high speeds, hitting the opposite wall hard and leaving behind a brown smear on the immaculate panelling.

The professor calmly walked down the hall and turned at the fork, blatantly ignoring the twitching toy and its plea for help. It was surprisingly therapeutic for the irritated man. Perhaps he should request to borrow a few of the kids' toys?

The snake threw open the doors to the living room, catching the attention of the occupants in his usual manner with his long black robes billowing dramatically behind him. Victoria was sitting on one of the armchairs enjoying her cup of tea, and she tilted her head at him quizzically when she spotted him. Her husband had his head in his hands and shaking it in disbelief, muttering something about 'fake birthdays' and how 'ridiculous this was getting'. Their son had been stuffing candy and all sorts of snacks in his face, but was now also tilting his head curiously.

Severus looked around, searching for his charge for the day.

And there she stood, by the window, her face grim and a look about her that reminded Severus strongly of a soldier returning to battle. Despite their differences, their feelings about their quality time with each other were remarkably similar.

Severus approached the Crabbe girl, looking down his hooked nose at her with cold, black eyes.

Valeria stared back, her own flat and hopeless.

"Let's get this over with," she greeted him glumly, before she too cocked her head. "If you're going to step in shit, the least you could do is clean it off before tracking it all over our house."

The man looked behind himself at the floor of the room.

_Ah._

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Charlie was having a splendid spring break.

It was his last one before he graduated from Hogwarts in four months time, and he was both looking forward to the end of the year, and dreading it. Excited because he'd finally be done with school, and upset he'd never be coming back to Hogwarts.

Plus NEWTs.

Those things made him want to throw himself off the top of the Astronomy tower.

Right then, he was taking a break from his studies on a trip to Diagon Alley, with all his younger siblings. Bill was unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it) breaking ancient curses in Egypt. Thrilling work, but also incredibly dangerous. One wrong move, and his older brother would find his limbs strewn about the dusty tombs.

Anyhow, the redhead was lounging against the side of _Florean's_, enjoying his ice cream and watching his brothers and sister examining the current broom on display in the store across the street. Percy had long since escaped into _Flourish and Blott's_, likely covertly reading a book they didn't have the money for.

Thankfully, Charlie didn't have to do that all that much anymore, seeing as his little friend usually already had all the books he'd wanted to read—mostly on dragons and other creatures. In return, he had to search extensively for books she hadn't gotten her hands on yet. She particularly enjoyed the adventure novel of a female dragon tamer some years back, as did the portrait she'd read it to.

The girl had written something about how the book was impressively advanced for its time in regards to gender equality, despite a few failings in terms of concrete facts. Charlie had been a little confused and intrigued at the time, not really having a clue what she meant when all he'd remembered clearly from the book was awesome fight scenes and even awesomer—_more awesome_, as she liked to correct him in her replies—_dragons_. He'd meant to actually think about that comment, really he did, but then she started writing about this one breed of dragon that could cut through _steel_ with a simple swipe of its talons and—

He completely forgot about it.

The Gryffindor boy sighed and shook his head, marvelling about how much his mind jumped from one thing to the next, now that his focus wasn't entirely on studying for his NEWTS. Maybe he should go back to that novel on Belch's adventures and try and find what the girl was referencing, and _my_, that girl over there looked an awful lot like Valeria-

Charlie choked on the cockroach cluster in his ice cream.

_'That _is _Valeria!'_

It was very possible he'd subconsciously recognized her in the crowd, it'd certainly explain his drifting thoughts. Seeing as the little girl had grown an ungodly amount since he'd last seen her—almost four years now, he'd guess—he didn't immediately make the connection between the girl he once met in _Flourish and Blotts_, and the one staring intently at his brothers and sister.

Which was _exactly_ what she was doing.

The girl was stood in the middle of the street next to an angry looking man as if she'd been stopped in her tracks, and was practically ogling the group of redheads. Her eyes were wide and she looked so very lost. Charlie had to admit, the mass of ginger hair _did _tend to catch the eye, although he didn't think it would warrant the need to stop and stare. Maybe she'd recognized them as his siblings?

Or better yet, fancies one of them.

Charlie's mouth twitched upwards at that thought. He couldn't help but find children and their awkward romantic interactions hilarious. If she really did fancy one of his brothers (or sister—one never knew), the amount of teasing and laughter would be priceless. He wondered who it would be?

Ah wait, no.

That obviously wasn't it.

Valeria appeared torn while she stared at them. She looked almost lonely, and Charlie decided he should find another good novel for her for being so callous in his assumptions, and to never speculate on his young friend's romantic inclinations ever again. He couldn't deny it was a little creepy secretly staring at her while she stared at his siblings, and pondering which one of them she might like...

...It was _exactly_ what his _mother_ would do!

Charlie shook off that alarming thought.

Anyhow, the girl didn't have any friends besides him and that painting of some relative of hers; obviously, she'd be wanting some closer to her age and actually corporeal.

_This _was why he tried convincing his sister and her to try and make friends! Maybe she was just less timid around boys, as far as he knew the only other females she spent a moderate amount of time with was her mother and a painting. Charlie probably should have suggested making friends with Ron, but something at the time told him Valeria would immediately reject the idea, and Ginny had been in need of a friend at the time.

Oh, look at that. One of the twins noticed her. George (he thought it was George—one could never be sure when it came to his twin brothers) elbowed Fred in the side and surreptitiously tilted his head at the pureblood girl. They both stared at her while Ron and Ginny continued to chat about the broom, and she stared back, her slightly sallow face quickly turning pale. Fred waved at her, and the girl flinched before flushing and tentatively waving back. She swiftly grabbed the irate looking man next to her and stomped off.

Charlie scratched his head.

What a strange reaction... And why were his brothers' features twisted into revulsion? That was horribly rude of them. That was Charlie's little friend, and he was going to have a talk—_Holy Gryffindor, that was **Snape**!_

The Weasley boy stared in abject horror along with his younger brothers at the back of the quickly retreating greasy head. He was internally kicking himself for not noticing earlier. Yes, professors were creatures whose only purpose in life were to teach and take away points, yes they didn't have any lives outside of Hogwarts, and yes they had _no business_ venturing out into the _real world_, but that gave him no excuse for not recognizing his most hated teacher!

_'This can't be good.'_

There was no way Snape would have been able to charm a woman into bed, Valeria couldn't have been his child (or a better line of logic: he'd already _met _Valeria's actual father). Charlie was certain she wasn't his niece or distant cousin either, because there was no _way _any parent in their right mind would have trusted their child with someone like Snape even _with _a blood relation. The man was a cruel and vindictive snake, and had no business being around children. So why was she with him? Was she an unwilling hostage?

She was definitely an unwilling hostage.

Charlie could not, in good conscious, leave his friend's fate to the snake. The Slytherin would probably chop her to bits and use her in his potions! Like the chivalrous lion that he was, he went after the pair that disappeared into the crowd posthaste.

After quite some time of rushing and searching, he found Valeria—alone, _thank Merlin_—with her face pasted to the window of _Magical Menagerie_. The sight was both amusing and slightly disturbing, due to the soft whispering emanating from the obsessed little girl. Was she stroking the glass pane?

Yes, she was.

It was _definitely _disturbing.

"You'd look a lot less suspicious if you did that inside with a cat in your arms," Charlie said in a very loud voice, causing the girl to jump and elicit a shrill yelp. "Long time no see, old friend."

He grinned at the girl.

Valeria took one look at him and promptly reattached her face to the window.

_Ouch_.

Charlie hadn't expected the dismissive action to hurt at all.

Then again, he probably should have expected that reaction. He knew how much she loved animals. He frowned at the back of her head, the stringy hair looking dull in the afternoon light.

"Is that all? After years of exchanging letters and never seeing each other?" Charlie made sure to sound upset. "I'm hurt."

"I could scream for help, if that's what you want," she sighed against the pane, the glass fogging up with her breath, and she peeked at him nervously. "I should have expected you'd be here—_oh, _don't run away, I was only joking."

Charlie backpedalled on his retreat.

"Cowardly lion," she muttered under her breath, but she was grinning as she said it, so Charlie didn't protest.

Instead, he stared bemusedly at the animals on the other side of the glass. How peculiar...

"Do animals always hate you, or did you wrong these particular ones in some way?"

Valeria scowled, "They don't hate me."

"Look at them. They're hissing and spitting and- oh look, that one's swiping its talons at you."

And so they were. They were very obviously repulsed by the ten-year-old, pressed into the backs of their cages in an attempt to get as far away from the ogling girl as possible. Some were shivering, others were growling something fierce, and there was a Puffskein that was frothing at the mouth.

A _Puffskein._

Those round, furry little things were _made_ for cuddling and affection.

Valeria heaved a sigh.

"It's not me_, _it's this _body_. All animals hate the Crabbes. It's like we give off this pheromone, or _something_," the girl responded in a resigned tone, as if she had already come to terms with this unfortunate circumstance. It was a thankful thing her face was still smashed onto _Magical Menagerie_, otherwise she would have noticed Charlie freeze at her words.

He certainly wasn't amused either.

The Weasley boy supposed that was why she'd never talked about herself in length in her letters, and why she'd danced around the subject of her family.

The _Crabbes_?

They were a Dark family, associated with the Malfoys, the Goyles, and the Blacks. If he could recall correctly, a Crabbe was accused of being one of the Death Eaters in You-Know-Who's inner circle. He, along with Malfoy and a few others, claimed they'd been under the Imperius the whole time. Absolute poppycock, if you asked Charlie and his father. They clearly lied and bought their way out of it.

Was Valeria's father or uncle a Death Eater? He had trouble equating the nervous looking man from _Flourish and Blott's _all those years ago with a ruthless, bloodthirsty Death Eater. He'd seemed almost gentle, and Charlie's own father hadn't mentioned anything of the like when pointing out the 'Rune Guy'. Valeria was also very open minded in terms of blood purity compared to other supremacist pureblood families. He found it hard to believe a child raised by a muggle-hating Death Eater would turn out like that.

...But then, when he really thought about it, why had Valeria been so desperate to keep her family name a secret as a child, if not to hide something she was ashamed of? He'd always assumed it was just a closed-minded family that sympathized with the Dark. What if it was something more? At first glance, the interactions between the girl and the man was of a father humouring his young daughter's sassy attitude. Looking back now, she was condescending towards him, angry, maybe even a little hateful. If it was anyone else displaying that attitude, and had Charlie known the Rune Guy was a Crabbe, he would have assumed he was a Death Eater.

And the fact she was wandering around with _Snape_ of all people...

A Death Eater would certainly leave their child with the Potions Master.

Charlie stared at the little girl and felt disoriented.

On one hand, he saw an innocent, witty child stuck in an unfortunate place, and on the other he saw the offspring of a killer who'd possibly helped in slaughtering his uncles. No one actually knew for sure which of the Dark wizards besides Dolohov had murdered Gideon and Fabian Prewett, but they were all the same to him. He never could forget the grinning faces of his uncles as a child, nor the look on his mother's own face when she received word of her brothers' deaths—no matter how much he wanted to.

Did Valeria's father kill them? Did that loving father, the gentle man in the bookshop murder his uncles in cold blood?

He did not know what to make of this. Could he ignore all of that and still be her friend?

The Weasley boy had been silent for almost ten minutes, but mercifully the girl had been too busy wallowing in her own thoughts to notice.

He broke the silence with a teasing voice, "Oh? You're blaming your genetics then? Well, whatever helps you sleep at night, kid."

"It's true," she insisted, skin stretching against the unyielding glass when she furrowed her brows. "In my past life, animals had always been perfectly fine with me. Now it's like the Grim Reaper is standing over my shoulder by the way the animals react whenever I step into a pet shop."

Charlie blinked at that proclamation, momentarily forgetting about her father. He hadn't been expecting that, as the girl never mentioned her... 'past life' in her letters. He broke out into laughter.

"You're still going on about that past life of yours, eh?"

"Of course," she frowned and stepped away from the shop when one of the creatures started to bite its own leg in anxiety, before smirking up at him. "It's important to put you in your place whenever you go off thinking you have seniority here, or some other such nonsense. I'll never stop reminding you I've got eleven years on you."

"Oh, Merlin," he chuckled, playing along with the little girl. "Alright, I'll bite. What was your name before this life?"

"Valerie Brennan."

"_Valerie_ Brennan?" Charlie asked dubiously. "That's hardly imaginative, Valeria."

"Oh, shut it," she snapped. "I didn't choose it, you arse."

"'Course you didn't," he grinned down at her, and changed the subject. "I'm graduating this year, did I tell you?"

Her eyes widened, "Oh right, you look about that age. You excited?"

"I am," he nodded, his brown eyes twinkling. "I'll be going to Romania to work with dragons. How could I not be excited?"

He braced himself for the surprise and jealousy, but it did not come, to his great disappointment. She simply smiled at him.

"It'll be a lot farther than the Burrow," he continued when she said nothing, and frowned. "So we probably won't be able to send letters as frequently as we used to. I'm sure one of our owls would drop from exhaustion."

And maybe it would be for the best. Being cordial towards Slytherins was one thing, but with the child of a Death Eater... It was hard to ignore. She could say something about her family that would set him off. Charlie could see himself saying something hurtful.

Yes, it was definitely for the best...

"_Pfft_, a _'lot'?_ What's a few countries?" Valeria waved her hand, then sighed. "Probably wouldn't change much anyways. You haven't been sending much letters recently."

He winced at that. She sounded sad.

_'She has no other friends.'_

"You excited?" Charlie changed the subject to something a bit lighter. "'Bout going to Hogwarts, I mean."

Her face darkened, much to Charlie's surprise. He really couldn't catch a break, could he?

"Not especially," she replied glumly. "I'm still combing tomes on wizarding law for a way to break off my engagement to the Ape."

"What's that have to do with attending Hogwarts?"

"I don't want them knowing," she muttered. "If they do, then all they'll see is not just my family's reputation, but his as well. I don't want to be a Crabbe or a Goyle, I want to be just me in their eyes. It's embarrassing knowing they'll think of that Ape as well whenever they look at me."

Charlie's mouth popped open and closed like a fish, feeling distinctly as if he was out of his element. A Goyle? She was engaged to another Death Eater's kid?

_Merlin have mercy._

"I'm sure you'll make some nice friends," he replied consolingly after a moment of digesting the new information. "Merlin, you bagged _me_."

"You have an awful lot of confidence in yourself," she snorted and looked away. "... But that's my problem."

"Confidence? You're loads confident, missy. Don't go doubting yourself."

"No, of course not. I've long since accepted who I am and take pride in that," the girl shook her head. "It's the making friends bit that bothers me."

"You think you can't make any friends?" Charlie scratched his head in confusion. "Are you shy or something? 'Cause you don't seem even a little shy to me. In fact, you're pretty mouthy."

"No! Or yes, I probably am shy, just a little," Valeria ignored the jab and shuffled her feet uncomfortably. "I... I've never made friends myself. Not once, I don't think, before you—and Ms. Crabbe doesn't count!" She interrupted him when she saw his mouth open. "Not because she's a painting, but because she's family... she's always had an interest in me, I think. And Goyle and the demon spawn were a set up play date, we were practically forced to be friends, if you could even call it that.

"I'm horrible when it comes to other people."

"Oh, that's just 'cause you're sheltered," Charlie replied good-naturedly. "Once you get to Hogwarts, you'll meet loads of different people. You'll get out of your shell in due time."

The little girl glared up at him, eyes seeming to spark with frustration.

"You're not _listening_ to me! I've _never _made friends on my own before you!"

Charlie blinked. "What are you getting at?"

"What I'm _getting _at is that even in my previous life, I'd _never _made friends, and I was definitely not sheltered back then."

The Weasley boy's brows raised. He was not expecting a return to her 'past life'.

"What was it like?" He asked, deciding it would be best to listen to what she had to say, not entirely sure how her make-believe life would factor into this.

Was she delusional, perhaps?

The Crabbe was taken aback, before looking away nervously. "I... hid behind my sister. Always. I was friends with _her _friends. It was ridiculously easy, I mean, we were _twins _after all. People always automatically lumped us together as one person, one unit. I didn't even _care_ about it, about other people, not really. Family had always been enough for me, as messed up as we had been..."

The girl sighed.

"You didn't... care about other people?" Charlie prompted when her silence dragged on.

"Not—I didn't—" She stuttered over her words, blushing furiously and looking extremely uncomfortable. "I didn't _not _care. I hadn't put much stock in the power of friendship and rainbows and whatnot. I mean, it's so ridiculously _easy_ for people to turn on you.

"And..." Valeria stopped. She stared blankly to the left of him.

"And...?"

"Well... I don't know how to put this in words... It wasn't the biggest concern for me. All the other kids cared about school, and other kids, and TV shows, and how much 'stupid' homework they had. The only thing I ever thought about were the kids bullying my older sisters, how many years it had been since my dad last acknowledged us, or if my mom remembered to stock the fridge. There were bigger things in my world," she whispered that last bit.

The Gryffindor boy took a few minutes to consider what she had said, while the girl was lost to her own thoughts.

He did not believe Valeria had a past life, but it was clear now to him that _she _believed she had lived through one. Maybe there was a possibility it was true. Most likely not. Valeria was—probably had always been—a troubled child. Delusional, maybe. But troubled... she definitely was troubled, to have imagined this whole thing.

Charlie wondered if he was maybe in over his head. Should he just shut down the conversation? Get back to the real world? He didn't know how to handle it, and quite frankly he wasn't very good at this sort of thing to begin with.

But...

If he did that, then he'd only be proving to her that people _will_ turn their backs on her. He was, like she said, her only friend, and this was a clear cry for help. Charlie would undoubtedly be the worst friend in the world if he ignored it. _Merlin_, he'd be leaving this troubled girl to the mercies of her Death Eater father and the rest of her Dark family. That's practically like leaving her to the mercies of a _troll_.

The Weasley boy sighed. Whatever the case, if only for his own peace of mind, he'll treat this as gently as possible and keep an eye on her. He was fond of her, after all. He doubted he could leave her be in this condition even if he wanted to, Death Eater's kid or no.

For now... he'll play along with her delusions.

"Here's a question," Charlie cleared his throat. "If you don't really have much faith in friendship... why is it such a concern to you now?"

The girl blinked at him.

"Animals."

He scrunched his eyebrows, "I'm sorry?"

"I found comfort in the presence of animals," she blushed again and scuffed her foot. "Humans are so complicated and fickle. Animals are not. It's why I love them so much."

She sighed.

"But now they are repulsed by me, and I can never see my sisters again..." Valeria trailed off for a moment, before shaking her head. "And thanks to you, I've gotten a taste for what real friendship is like, even if it was only through letters and on dragons. I never realized... what I was missing out on.

"I don't... I don't want to feel alone," she whispered quietly. "It's a miserable feeling."

"So..." Charlie tried to wrap his head around what her problem was. "Basically, you want to have some form of companionship now, be it a person or an animal—which is practically impossible now that you rile them up. So it has to be a person, and Ms. Crabbe wouldn't do because you can't bring her portrait with you to Hogwarts and I'll be graduating this year... right?"

The Crabbe nodded.

"But you think you'll have trouble making friends because you've never made one on your own before, barring myself. And having the reputation of your family and your fiancé dogging you around worries you because you think it will make it even more difficult for you. Which... is also worrisome, because you want people to see you for you..." Charlie's eyes widened when he realized what _really _bothered her. "When you say 'they', you mean any _friends_ you make. You don't want them to associate you with your family and the Goyles. You want to be just Valeria."

"Basically," she replied dryly, though the still vibrant blush on her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment. "Which, you know, was what I said right from the start."

The teenager chuckled, "Yeah..."

"You probably think I'm being silly," she muttered.

"No—Well... yes, actually," he backtracked quickly when he caught the hurt on her face. "I meant you're blowing things out of proportion and agonizing over nothing—you don't have anything to _worry_ about. And I _really _mean it this time."

She stared moodily at him. "Really."

"Really. You said so yourself, you know who you are and you take pride in yourself. How do you think we became friends?"

"I had lots and lots of money," the girl raised a brow and Charlie flushed. "And lots and lots of dragon compendiums."

"Err... That may have been an, uh, added bonus, but that's not the point!" The Weasley boy felt extremely embarrassed. "What I _mean _is you were... well, you. You weren't reserved or shy or anything like that, and we ended up having something in common. _Dragons_."

Charlie's eyes glazed over in bliss for a few moments.

_'Oh, _dragons_...'_

He quickly shook thoughts of those glorious beings off his mind and continued talking, "Just be yourself. It sounds cliché, I know, everybody says it. But they say it for a reason. If you want people to know you, _be _you. If they can't see past your family and their associates, then they're just not worth it."

It hit Charlie like a ton of bricks a beat after he said those words.

It took... effort, not blaming her and her family, dismissing the fact that she came from not just a snooty pureblood family, but from a Dark one. Charlie would have been no more different from the racist Death Eaters if he rejected her because of her blood. It helped, remembering that she was just a kid and the vow he made to never judge right off the bat. If Charlie had known she was a Crabbe when he'd met her... he doubted they'd even be friends.

And to think he'd been contemplating cutting her off because of her _family _just ten minutes prior...

Well, then he wouldn't be worthy of anyone's friendship.

They were both silent as they digested his words.

"... But what if they can't see past it?" Valeria questioned uncertainly. "What if no one will ever know _me?_"

After a few moments, the Gryffindor boy cleared his throat, treading carefully, "You know, if that's what you're worried about..."

He paused, struggling with the words, and the girl looked up from the cobbled street, waiting.

"I'll always see you as just Valeria, or Valerie, or whatever your name is. Even if you do end up marrying some Death Eater's kid, I'll never think differently of you," Charlie grinned brightly. "And no matter what House you end up in, I'll always be your friend, kid. Even if you're in Slytherin."

_'Even if your dad did kill my uncles. That's... it's not your fault.'_

Valeria's grey eyes widened. She hurriedly wiped at them, then slapped at the hand that tried ruffling her hair. "I still want to end my engagement. Preferably in a spectacular display of fiery destruction. I want to see its ashes..." She muttered. "And who needs an idiot friend like you anyways? I'm a strong independent woman, screw what others think of me."

He gasped, looked around hurriedly, and yelled, "What woman?! Where is she?"

The Crabbe looked at him in disgust, "You suck."

"Such a mature response."

She snarled at him and turned to stomp away, promptly knocking into a tall dark form.

"Oof," Charlie heard the sound escape her. He stiffened instantly, recognizing the Slytherin he'd seen her with earlier. He'd completely forgotten why he followed her here.

"What did I say about associating with the Weasley boys, Miss Crabbe," the greasy voice slithered over them and Charlie recoiled. "I doubt your mother would be pleased with this."

"Oh, Sevvy-kins!" The girl simpered in a saccharine tone, and she latched onto his hand like a bloodthirsty leech, shocking Charlie. "You only mentioned the _twins_ were trouble. There a twin you haven't told me about, Charlie?"

"Uh," the Weasley boy startled. "No."

"See?" Valeria purred at the now struggling snake. They began to wrestle for the no doubt greasy hand. Charlie stared in disbelief.

"The entirety of the Weasley's," the man grunted, laboriously prying off a finger. "Was _implied_."

"Well, it's a little late for that," the little girl grunted back, digging her nails in hard enough to draw blood. "_Years _late, Sevvy dear."

The fight for the hand was starting to become vicious.

"We were just talking about—_gah!_ Hogwarts," the girl continued, huffing after a mean pinch. "Which was _loads _more fun than you turning my birthday into a Potions lesson review."

"It's your birthday?" Charlie asked, surprised once again. He recalled her mentioning it in _April_.

"Of course not," the girl replied dismissively, scratching at sallow skin.

"_I knew it_," Severus snarled and yanked. "I _knew _it wasn't your birthday! _Damn you, Victoria!_"

Charlie was so lost.

"Valeria," he decided to put a stop to this. "Do you need...saving?"

That was his initial intention when following them, but...

What the hell was _this_?

"_I_ need saving from this _creature_," Severus growled and gave a final yank, the girl almost tripping over with the force of it.

Now that wasn't nice.

Charlie mentally shook himself and glared, placing a steadying hand on the little girl's shoulder, "Professor Snape."

"Weasley," the snake sneered at the boy as he adjusted his robes.

The Gryffindor turned to look at his friend worriedly, "Are you okay, Valeria? Do you _know_ this man?"

"What," the girl looked at him, startled at his tone, and shook her head. "No, no. It's not... like that. Sevvy and I have an agreement."

Charlie looked at her dubiously.

"Miss Crabbe," the professor glared at the boy, perhaps affronted at his assumption. "I believe it is time we took our leave."

The girl rolled her eyes and strolled forward, burying her hand onto the man's robes, much to the professor's displeasure.

"Wait," Charlie called out hurriedly. She turned back curiously.

He had more to say.

The Weasley coughed, glaring at Snape, "When you go to Hogwarts, Valeria, never give in, you hear? No matter who tries to hurt you or judge you. Remember what I said: no matter what, I'll always be your friend. You'll have people who care about you wherever you go.

"Be strong," his glare intensified at the professor as he said the next part. "And stick it to the pricks that are in your way and _standing right in front of you_."

Charlie knew he was going to pay for that remark when he returned to Hogwarts from the break, but it was worth it. He really hated Snape.

The girl finally laughed for the first time today and smiled.

"See you around, Charlie."

* * *

(V)(° ㇬0 °)(V)

* * *

Draco glared at the girl sitting across from him. She had her head propped up on her arm lazily, grey eyes dim with boredom. A hand rubbed absently at the flower pendant his mother bought her some time ago. He was sure she wasn't fully there, and he scowled.

It was insulting.

They were playing _Wizard's chess_, for Salazar's sake!

"Knight to F6," he muttered angrily, glare never leaving the Crabbe in front of him. It took him a few minutes after the chess piece completed its move to realize she wasn't mentally present _at all_.

In a temper tantrum he knew his father would not be proud of, he flipped the board over. Several pieces knocked the girl in her face, the marble king giving him a particularly dirty look as it flew past, and she groaned in pain. She rubbed her forehead gently and looked at him.

"What happened?"

"You weren't even paying attention's what happened!" He yelled, his own grey eyes flashing. "How can I enjoy a good game of Wizard's chess by myself?"

"What a coincidence," the girl drawled. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," she sighed and started to pick up the scattered chess pieces, hissing when one smacked at her. "Just that I've had thirteen years worth of practice against my older sister, who happens to be a genius at chess by the way."

Draco rolled his eyes, giving up completely on having a serious conversation. The Crabbe girl was always spouting nonsense like that, just like her mother. His father mentioned before that Victoria Crabbe was a filthy liar, coming up with outrageous stories. Just the other day, the woman had been telling him that she was a very sought after lady back in her Hogwarts years.

Clearly, Valeria had inherited the near incessant need to lie.

A pity, really. Valeria was the only other kid in their little group that was smart enough to learn the rules of Wizard's chess, let alone have a decent conversation. He'd rather not have to deal with her fictitious drivel. But... it was definitely better than the mindless blabbering that the Ape—_ahem_—Goyle tended to grace him with.

Draco decided to content himself with watching his playmate's sister crawling on the ground and picking up after him, cursing at the uncooperative pieces. The idiot could have easily called for her house elf and made it clean it up, but she usually insisted on doing it herself. She sometimes reminded him of that insult his father liked to throw at the lesser kids in Diagon Alley... what was it again? Street Urchin?

The Malfoy heir decided to test it out for himself, "You look like a street urchin."

"Thanks," the Crabbe responded, not in the least bit fazed. "You too."

Draco scowled at her from his chair. He never could win a dissing match against her, all his insults rolled off her like water on a Dugbog. The only way he'd get a reaction out of her was through violence or bringing up The Broomstick Incident.

The blond boy smirked at the memory of The Incident. The look on her face...

...But, alas, he did not feel like getting in a fight with the girl. He did that enough of the time with Goyle and Crabbe around. Speaking of, where had the two morons gotten off to?

"Probably destroying something," the raven-haired girl responded blandly as she placed the board back on the table and rearranged the pieces. "I hope they didn't get into my playroom. There are a lot of books I haven't finished reading in there."

Raising a brow, he stared as she sat back in her chair. He didn't think he'd spoken out loud.

"You're such a bookworm," he said it as though it were a sickly disease, even though he himself liked a good read occasionally.

"Of course. It's my most attractive quality, besides my good looks and rockin' bod."

Draco decided to ignore that, mostly because he wasn't sure what she meant by 'rockin' bod'. Instead, he fell back on his earlier insult.

"You act like such a _muggle_ sometimes, cleaning up messes when you could've just ordered your house-elf to do it for you," he scoffed at her, and she sniggered for some reason unknown to him.

"It's called discipline, and not being an inconsiderate prick," she smiled pleasantly at him. "You'd do well to practice it, Draco. Pawn to H4."

The Malfoy scowled at the board as her piece dutifully slid across the squares. It was like chipping away at a brick wall that punches back! He wasn't exactly sure how she had developed such a thick skin. Her parents weren't the demeaning sort (at least not to their own children), and her brother wasn't exactly the most eloquent with words.

Or even spoke that much at all.

"Pawn to B6. How can you be so unfazed?" Draco demanded, frustrated with her. He tried to practice such composure, but he always lost his temper one way or another.

"Trust me, kid. When you grow up with four sisters and mean parents, you either learn to deal with it or check yourself into the local mental ward," Valeria snorted indelicately. "As much as we loved each other, we fought like rabid animals. Rook to H2."

Draco groaned and slid a hand down his face. He never should have expected a serious answer.

"Bishop to B7."

Ah, well. He supposed he should be glad there wasn't a lot that could get to her, besides of course The Incident. It made his 'job' easier.

"Knight to H2," the girl yawned from across the chess board, and once again propped her head in her hand. She stared listlessly at the horse jumping and galloping to its spot.

The Malfoy heir had honestly been aghast when his mother approached him one day and ordered him to keep an eye out for Valeria Crabbe. Not 'keep an eye on her, she's a suspicious no good scoundrel', mind, which Draco would have readily agreed with. No, it was 'keep an eye out _for_ her, you need to keep her safe'. His sweet mother had been adamant that he do so, a hard gleam in her eye daring him to throw a tantrum.

Draco, of course, threw a tantrum.

He had gotten into loads of trouble for it, obviously, losing his sweets and chocolate supply for a whole month. The boy's mother, however, saw fit to explain _why_ he had to go through the trouble. It was the burden of the nobility of the wizarding world, in other words the Malfoys, to take care of their own. The Crabbe's and Goyle were his 'subordinates', his followers, and it rested upon his shoulders to see them safe and sound. In return, they granted them fealty and unwavering loyalty.

He had rather liked the sound of that.

His own _followers._

That was really all they were, wasn't it?

Well... except for _her_. She was constantly disregarding his obvious superiority and acting as though _she _was the better individual. Absolute rubbish, but Draco understood why his mother went out of her way to inform him of such a noble responsibility. It wasn't _just _'keep an eye out for her, you need to keep her safe'. It was 'keep an eye out for her, you need to keep her safe _because _she's a suspicious no good scoundrel'.

Valeria attracted trouble like a cauldron of Amortentia to a wizard.

He smirked.

Draco was very pleased with his Potions metaphor.

His studies were coming along splendidly. When he starts attending Hogwarts, he would take the top position in his class easily. The rest of the students were either of lower class, mudbloods, and people like Valeria who were only interested in their own fanciful exploits.

_'I'm going to make my parents proud,' _He thought smugly to himself as he lost his king to the Crabbe girl. _'Nobody's going to take that from me, let alone any mudblood.'_

He chuckled at the idea of those dirty creatures excelling in any field of magic. Everyone knew they were frauds.

"You're awfully pleased with your loss," the girl across from him noted with surprise. "Is little Drakey finally maturing?"

"I was just thinking."

"Ah," Valeria nodded sagely. "I can see how that would be amusing."

She smiled sweetly at him and he gave her his best Malfoy sneer. If there was anything he trumped her in besides social status and looks, it was his sneer. It was Malfoy patented.

Draco was startled with a sudden thought.

What was he going to do when they _all _went to Hogwarts? Obviously, he'd be the king of Slytherin, the Greatest House Ever to Grace the Magical Earth (GHEGME), and excel in his grades. He was going to be fine, as well as Vincent and Gregory, as there was no doubt they were going to be Sorted in the GHEGME. The blond would be able to keep an eye on them.

But what about Valeria?

Now, one would assume that a pureblood from a respectable family would want to be Sorted in Slytherin. But the Crabbe girl was a bit of a... well, she was a bit of a suspicious, no good scoundrel. Draco could easily picture her wanting to Sort into a House that wasn't the GHEGME. Even, and Draco shivered at this, even... _Gryffindor_.

The Malfoy heir curled his lip in disgust.

That would not bode well for his follower.

"Valeria, here's a thought," Draco began, but was so rudely interrupted by his 'follower'.

"Oh my, Drakey," Valeria gasped, and covered her mouth as if in shock. "I couldn't possibly accept such a thing from you. It must have taken you a lot effort to come up with a thought!"

_'Control your temper,' _Draco repeated to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. _'Control your temper.'_

"Not at all," he spat out through his teeth. "I was thinking about when we go to Hogwarts."

"Oh?" She said, her interest clearly piqued.

"Which House are you looking forward to Sort in?"

"Hufflepuff," she replied without missing a beat, face sure and confident.

_'Oh, for Merlin's sake_—_'_

"Hufflepuff?" Draco visibly recoiled, his pale face appalled. "_Hufflepuff?!_"

"Mhm. Wonderful House, wouldn't you agree?"

"Hufflepuff! You?" He sputtered. "_You?_"

"Of course," Valeria smiled smugly, relaxing in her seat.

The Malfoy Heir stared at her for a few beats before bursting out into laughter, "That was a good one."

She frowned at that, forehead crinkling, "I wasn't joking."

"Valeria Crabbe, a Hufflepuff. Valeria Crabbe, a patient, hard-working, honest Hufflepuff," Draco snorted inelegantly. "Right."

"I'm being serious!" The Crabbe glared at him, indignant. "I will Sort in the House of badgers!"

Draco glared back, "If you're anything, you're a Slytherin, not a Hufflepuff! Merlin's beard, you're more of a _lion _than a badger!"

Valeria gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, this time in true shock. Her face was pale, her features twisted in horror. Her scream was muffled behind her fingers.

"_No!_"

"Oh, yes," his lip curled in distaste. "Unfortunately. You're arrogant, self-righteous and have no regard for the rules. Professor Snape says those are prime traits for the 'heroic' idiots."

"But I _can't _be," she looked faint. "Anywhere but _that_ House."

"Not to worry," Draco smirked. "You're also clever, determined, and resourceful. You fit the traits for Slytherin rather well."

"I do?" Valeria sounded perplexed, the Gryffindor scare forgotten.

Draco nodded, his smile smug, "In whatever test they give us for the Sorting, just aim for the GHEGME."

"...Gag me?"

"The Greatest House Ever to Grace the Magical Earth."

She stared at him incredulously, mouth hanging open.

"Control your excitement, Valeria. It's unsightly."

"Uh, no. No, no, no," the girl shook her head vehemently. "I'd never survive Slytherin, my housemates would drive me up the wall, among other things. I much prefer Hufflepuff."

Draco leaned forward, eyes flashing. This was his chance. The finishing blow.

"I can look out for you."

She narrowed her eyes, "What."

"I said, I could look out for you. What kind of a high-class pureblood would I be if I didn't protect my fo- friends."

That was a close call. She would have immediately shut him down if he called her his follower, and he'd lose the chance to keep all of them in one House.

Valeria blinked a few times, before she dissolved into brash laughter, loud and jarring to Draco's ears. He winced. What a nuisance.

"Y-You? A ten-year-old child? Protect _me?_" Her face was red from laughing so hard, and she was slamming her hand on the chessboard. "Draco Malfoy. The devil's spawn? _Pfft_, the kid I _fight _with? Moved by the power of _friendship? _This is unbelievable. _Haha_!"

Draco glared at her. He was very unamused with this reaction.

"That's—_ho_—That is... very Gryffindor of you," Valeria had a particularly evil gleam in her eye. "Our dear Drakey the lion."

The Malfoy boy felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach, all the air escaping from his lungs in one fell swoop. He sputtered and gave a very lion-like roar, "I am _not _a _Gryffindor! _I'd rather be _dead!_"

"Ah, not to worry," the Crabbe's eyes flashed ominously. "Your _loyalty_ is more suited to Hufflepuff anyways."

He gaped at her. He could not _believe_ what she was pulling right then.

"Isn't that nice," she grinned wickedly. "We could be in the same House and be best buds, my _dear_, loyal _badger_."

"No," he glared.

"Oh, yes," she steepled her fingers, the corners of her grin visible behind them. "I think we'll do well in Hufflepuff. You, protecting your precious friend, and me, being all around awesome and badgery."

"Absolutely not," he yelled in anger. "There is no _way_ I will not be Sorted into Slytherin. You can't just pre—pres—presume to tell me where I'll go. That's _my _choice!"

"Right back at ya, blondie," she glared at him in anger. "I'm free to be whatever I want to be, and I'm not going to let a child like you dictate who I am. I had enough of that from Mom."

Draco reeled back at her sudden anger. Thinking quickly, he decided on a different approach, "You could achieve great things in Slytherin, everyone knows that. Your ambition will flourish!"

"Well, so-_rry, _pal," Valeria snapped at him. "I ain't got any ambition or dreams. Those died a _long _time ago."

They glowered furiously at each other. The boy had the inexplicable urge to flip the chessboard in her face again. Instead, he stomped out of the Crabbe's library. He heard Valeria call out after him as he threw open the doors, "I'd find a different acronym for your House, Draco. 'Gag me' is practically _begging_ for it!"

Draco growled and stormed down the halls of the Crabbe family home, searching blindly for Vincent and Gregory. They were _much _better company than that—that—_freak_!

It was only when he'd calmed down and turned a corner that he realized she'd been shouting at him strangely. As if she'd been speaking in a different accent. He hadn't heard _anyone _say the word sorry(1) like that.

_'Freak.'_

Taking a second to look around, he realized the hallway he was in was completely unfamiliar. They never spent much time at the Crabbe's, usually settling for Diagon Alley or his own home to play. The Malfoy boy was definitely lost.

Draco cursed.

He strode uncertainly down the hall, sneering at a portrait that smiled kindly down at him as he passed. Draco paused for a moment, then backed up and stared up at the raven-haired woman. She beamed brightly at the attention.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Vincent and Goyle are, would you?" He asked politely, despite knowing she was just an object.

"I'm sorry," her smile dimmed. "I don't get around much. His playroom is down the hall on your right, four doors to the left though."

Draco immediately walked away without thanking it, deciding not to waste his breath on something like a painting. He paused, however, when the portrait wished him luck.

"Happy hunting, Draco," she sang out. He looked behind him at the oil painting, and backed up once again.

"How did you know my name?" He demanded.

"How could I not?" She responded. "You're the third most person Valeria complains about."

"I am?" Draco did not know if he should feel flattered or insulted.

"Oh, yes. You're referred to as, 'that nasty blonde prick everybody hates'," the woman in the painting smiled winningly at him. The pureblood boy definitely felt insulted.

He scowled at her, "I know who you are. You're that stupid portrait Valeria prattles to."

"Ms. Crabbe," she gave a mock bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Well _I _am _not _pleased," he curled his lip up at her.

"Now, now. What would your mother think if she saw how atrocious your manners were?"

The boy's scowl deepened, knowing his mother would be deeply ashamed. He inclined his head, "A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Crabbe. My name is Draco Malfoy, of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

Ms. Crabbe grinned, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"It was painful," he glared. "You're almost as annoying as Valeria."

"Ah, I will take that as a compliment then," the woman chuckled as if enjoying her own little joke, before settling for staring intently at him. "I am a little curious about one thing that she refuses to tell me about, if you wouldn't mind being a dear and explaining."

"And what would that be?" Draco asked blandly.

The grey-eyed woman leaned in, eyes shining, "What on earth is The Broomstick Incident?"

Draco smirked evilly at that.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm a bit of a gossip monger," her lips twitched. "I've gotten my nose stuck in a lot of messes in my time."

The Malfoy heir considered it for a moment.

"No."

"No?" The painting leaned back and frowned. "Why not?"

"I'm irritated," Draco sneered. "And I don't like you."

"Fair enough," the woman nodded. "What's got you riled up if I may ask, little grump?"

The blond frowned at the nickname, "I had a disagreement with the idiot."

"Which one?"

"Valeria, of course. It's impossible to have an argument with Gregory or Vincent," he snorted. "They don't have the brains to keep up."

"I suppose," the woman tilted her head. "Although, one would think they'd be too dim-witted to know when to _stop_ arguing."

The woman grinned.

"Even an idiot can come up with a senseless argument, after all."

Draco had the feeling she was waiting for some kind of response to that, but he ignored it. Her face fell a little when he dismissed her, "Whatever. The stupid girl thinks she's a Hufflepuff. A _Hufflepuff_!"

The painted woman's eyes widened and she pointed at him, "She told you as well? I don't understand why she's so set on that House! Don't get me wrong, Hufflepuffs are wonderful people, but it's just not Valeria."

"That's what I said!" Draco nodded enthusiastically. "I mean, it's obvious which House she'll do best in."

"Indeed," the woman nodded as well.

"She's best suited for the GHEGME," Draco said smugly.

"...Gag me?"

The boy frowned crossly at the painting, "The Greatest House Ever to Grace the Magical Earth."

"...Ah," the painting raised a brow. "And that would be?"

"Slytherin, of course."

The painting let out a very unladylike 'pfft' sound, her hand flying to cover her mouth and smother her laughter. Her face was as red as a crab's vibrant shell.

"Slytherin? _Slytherin?_" Ms. Crabbe was hysterical. "Valeria, a _Slytherin!_"

Draco stiffened and he glared for probably the hundredth time that day, "She possesses many Slytherin traits. Clever, cunning, determination, self-preservation."

"Ah, but Valeria also does _not_ possess many of their traits. Ambition, their desire for power, their... tendency to support their little 'blood club'."

"That doesn't mean she _won't _be Sorted into Slytherin."

"True," the painting smirked. "But she displays _much _more of the traits of Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw?" Draco scowled up at the painting. "You think she's a Ravenclaw?"

"But of course. I'd think I'd be able to recognize one of my own," the Ravenclaw's painted eyes glinted. "Her intelligence and wit are rather remarkable for her age, _and _she displays the eccentricity and acceptance of one of us eagles."

"She is a bit of a freak," the boy agreed and the woman frowned. "But she's not as 'accepting' as you think she is."

"Perhaps not," Ms. Crabbe admitted begrudgingly. "Valeria cannot seem to change her opinion of someone once she makes up her mind about them. She is also not particularly studious in terms of things that do not interest nor benefit her. But she _is_ exceptionally tolerant of deviants of the accepted norm, and her ardour for reading and drive to investigate the areas that _do _interest her is enough for Ravenclaw."

Draco unfortunately did not know some of the words the painting had used, and some of what she said had flown over his head... but he _did_ understand the gist of where this was going.

"No, Slytherin."

"No, Ravenclaw."

"No, Slytherin!"

"No, Ravenclaw!"

"No, _Slytherin!"_

"No, _Ravenclaw!_"

"No, Ravenclaw!"

"No, Sly-" The painting stopped herself. "_Oh_, I see what you did there."

Draco smirked.

"Nevertheless," Ms. Crabbe continued. "I still maintain that Valeria will Sort into the House of eagles."

"And I, Slytherin," the Malfoy heir shot back.

"It would appear that we are at an impasse."

"So we are," Draco made a note to look up the exact meaning of the word 'impasse'.

Then he remembered that he was arguing with a _painting. _

_'What a waste of time.'_

The blond snorted and turned to walk away. He made it to the corner when the painting of Ms. Crabbe called out to him.

"Take care of yourself, little grump."

The boy almost wanted to laugh. He always took care of himself. He wouldn't be much of a Slytherin if he didn't.

Remembering the dead woman's instructions, he counted four doors on his left and stood before it. Yes, this was definitely Crabbe's playroom, he remembered it from the last time they'd come to play in this Merlin-forsaken house.

Draco frowned for a moment.

There had been something odd about the painting. Whether it was the conversation, the woman herself, or the fact that he had been arguing with an object, there was _something _about it all that just didn't sit right with him. She was too... too... _too_...

Draco did not know how to put it into words.

It was a just feeling he had.

Shaking it off, because really it was just a _painting_, the boy grasped the doorknob and threw the door open.

The Slytherin wannabe froze.

He was not expecting the scene before him.

Really, _nobody _would have expected to walk into _that_.

Small fire pits were scattered around the space, little carvings of crabs lining some sort of raised altar on top of which splinters rested in a strangely eerie macabre pile. A moving mass covered about three-quarters of his follower's playroom, tiny war cries and shouts drifting to his ears. It took Draco a few moments to recognize them as those miniature, wooden figurines Crabbe liked to play with. Or kill, really.

He kind of wished he hadn't gone looking for his playmates.

Oh, he found Crabbe and Goyle alright. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how he looked at it—the two boys were rather crudely hogtied and shaking in fear on the floor beside the army of wooden toys. They stared at him with pleading, dark eyes, their depths swimming with terror.

It was at that moment, when the noise and rustling emanating from the throng peaked, that an aged, yet powerful voice boomed out.

"**_SILENCE!_**"

The word swooped over them, the figurines hushing into an almost deafening quiet. All the occupants of the room stood perfectly still, save for the hogtied children and the singular figurine suddenly appearing on the altar. It took slow yet steady steps, and Draco had the sudden feeling that he was staring at something, or rather someone, very important and respected among this... community.

The figurine stopped before the edge of the altar, cane tapping against the carved stone, grey robes adorning its stooped figure, a pure white beard almost brushing its toes. The marble of its eyes were strange—it had no painted irises like the other toys. It was a simple milky white, with a long crack extending from its forehead to its left cheek ruining the smooth surface of its marble eyeball.

The old man gazed silently at his people for several moments.

"For too long," he began, voice strong and carrying to the rest of the room. "For too long, have we carried out bleak and meaningless lives. We had no purpose. No hope. No name to call ourselves. We passed our days, days that were not even our own, in desperate nothingness, the only thing at the end of our desolate tunnel... _death_. We were but the 'Other', the small people, the tiny things, the miniature _toys._

"For too long," the old geezer continued in a shout. "For too long, have we lived in fear of a being bigger than ourselves. A giant, a behemoth, a _god_. We were lesser than insects, lesser than dust. It took great joy in our pain, swooping down as the bringer of our deaths and tearing our people limb from limb, no mercy afforded for our people. It terrorized us for a time longer than we can remember. Perhaps our torment began decades, even centuries ago. It matters not. What matters is that our pain continues even now. And there was no hope for it ever ending...

"... Until now."

_'What the bloody hell?'_

Roaring cheers echoed from the mass of spectators, a good number of them thrusting toothpicks and needles in the air. The leader of the renegade figurines waited for several moments before bellowing an oddly poetic and practiced speech.

"It was on a day like any other, when our fate had changed forever. The behemoth had risen from its slumber, and ambled its way to tear us asunder. And though the beast we may outnumber, all we could do was endeavour. Then, like the sun rising to spill its light unto our darkened world, our Saviour came in the form of its sister.

"A Being just as giant, just as powerful, and yet... so very different. She, whom we had shown no preference, She, who barely knew our people, _sacrificed _Herself so that we might be spared our fate. Our complete and total destruction. And as it took Her hand to lead Her away, She spoke the words that changed the very course of _all _our lives. The words that would become our _Holy Scripture._"

On some sort of cue that Draco missed, the entire collection of figurines recited a passage from their 'Holy Scripture' in a strange, composed hymn.

**_"Vinnie. There's one hiding beneath your body pile. I think this is your biggest massacre yet. I'm honestly surprised they haven't started fighting back though; they should be standing up for themselves if they want to survive your playroom. Say, you want to go hang out. It must get tiring decimating miniature villages."_**

Or maybe not just a passage. It was very likely that was the entirety of their 'Holy Scripture'.

_'Whatever this is, it's all Valeria's fault.'_

It practically _reeked_ of her influence.

"Now, we have purpose! Now, we have hope!" The elder figurine continued to roar over the crowd. "She bestowed upon us the _will _to fight back, to claim our lives as our own! My fellow people, we have a Goddess on our side, and we now have the honour of bearing a _name! _We... are...

**_"Valerians!"_** The entirety of the cultists cried out alongside their religious leader, their loudest yet.

The Valerian Elder waved his cane in the air like a sword, "Today marks the day of our first step towards freedom, _liberty! _Today we end our suffering and take back the Playroom! Today, we take their **_heads!_**"

_'…'_

Their roars were deafening now as the mass of mini cultists stomped their feet and waved their scavenged weapons. A rather bulky looking figurine readied a makeshift axe in its arms, composed of a sharpened rock, a bit of string, and a few bundled toothpicks. It stood at the ready on a separate platform next to Vincent's neck. It eyed Draco's playmate with an evil gleam in its marble eye, the painted purple irises looking especially sinister.

"Raise the flag," a Valerian follower screamed from amongst the mass, the rest taking it up in a chant.

Two Valerians ran towards a pulley contraption and began to pull on the attached string, slowly raising the cloth banner lying on the floor to the chants of their fellow people. They screamed in glee when the image became visible, and Draco had to choke down a strangled noise that desperately wanted to escape him.

For there, painted with loving care on the stolen pillowcase, was the likeness of Valeria Crabbe staring importantly into the distance. The words, 'Valeria, Our Goddess' were emblazoned in black letters around her image, along with a strange symbol. If Draco were to peer closer, he would recognize it as a cherry blossom with a crab in its centre.

Unfortunately, he did not have the chance to examine it because his eyes were too busy straying back to the rickety platform. The Valerians were chanting once again, only now they were chanting for Vincent and Goyle's heads. Vincent was wiggling desperately in an attempt to throw the executioner off its place, and Goyle was staring beseechingly into the Malfoy heir's eyes with his own tear-filled ones. The bulky figurine cackled, purple eyes flashing, and lifted its small axe high above its head. Draco took a step back.

The wooden floorboards of the Crabbe boy's playroom creaked under his weight, and a loud silence befell the occupants of the room. There was the distinct sound of wood twisting against wood as every wooden head swivelled to stare at the boy standing in the doorway of their newly reclaimed playroom. They stood there, staring blankly at one another for a moment, before Draco swiftly slammed the door closed.

"Dobby!"

A beat and a crack later, the house-elf was stood next to his young master.

"Yes, sir?"

"Take me home. Now!"

Blast the whole 'burden of the nobility' and 'protecting their own'. Crabbe and Goyle could take care of themselves.

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**OMAKE 3: Of Crimson Blood and Passionate Love**

_I'd never given much thought to how I would die — though I'd had reason enough in the last few months — but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this. I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me. Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something. I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end. The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me._

_\- Bella, Twilight Preface **(Because apparently prefaces are suddenly prologues.)**_

Vinnie knew he would die as soon as he laid eyes on him.

Death was always imminent, whether through accident, disaster, disease, or human vice. It was a creeping presence, and no matter how far one traveled down their path, the one thing that waited at the end with certainty was Death. One never knew when their path stopped and the shadowy creature of all end would come for them. That was a fact of life.

But Vinnie _knew_.

He knew he would die for him.

Even as he closed his eyes, moments before his death, he could still see with picture perfect clarity the silver blond hair, piercing grey eyes and pale lips of his one true love. No matter how many times he saw his face, the ethereal beauty still shocked his system. He didn't think it possible, but the boy grew more beautiful as time passed.

Being with him was like a dream beyond anything Vinnie could have imagined. He never thought he'd get the chance to be with someone leagues above him in beauty, brains, and skill. Compared with him, Vinnie was but a weak and lumpy lamb to Draco's strong and glorious lion.

Yet, the lion chose him (andGoyleandVal,buttheydon'tmatter).

_Draco _chose _him_.

And Vinnie was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

When the toys surged from every possible crevice and hiding place in the playroom, Vinnie's first thoughts went to his love. Even when they stabbed and tore with their tooth picks and needles, drew beads of crimson and trickles of blood, and wound rope and twine around him and his friend, the only thing he could think of was his Draco.

Vinnie knew it would be then.

He knew he would die in that room.

He knew he would never lay eyes on his love again.

_'Oh, Draco...'_

Vinnie could not believe his eyes when the door to the playroom quietly swung open, and yet, he knew with utter certainty that the vision before him was true. The all too familiar shock came along with the sight of perfectly slicked back blond hair and narrow grey eyes.

Something welled up in Vinnie's eyes.

Draco, he tried to say around the gag in his mouth, you came.

_'You came for me...'_

His heart clenched.

_'Draco...'_

To be rescued by your love, to know he would throw himself in death's jaw for you, it was... it was...

A tear spilled down Vinnie's cheek.

What had Vinnie done to deserve this? What good deed had he carried out that a higher power had decided to show such mercy upon him? His life was perfect... He couldn't be happier...

Then fear struck.

Terror, heart-stopping panic, all consuming dread.

_'No...'_

If he was here, then...

_'No, not him.'_

If Draco was here with him, with _them..._

_'Not Draco!'_

Vinnie began to struggle, tears flowing freely, doing anything he could to break free of his bonds. The easy grin of his violet eyed executioner was all he could see through his blurry vision. He could not let this happen to Draco too. Not now, not ever.

He would _die_ first.

Draco, run, he tried to scream through his gag, _run!_

Draco took a step back and, after a moment's pause, stepped out and swung the door closed behind him.

_Thank you._

Vinnie could not bring himself to regret this, not now. This dream had been perfect, and when he thought he would never again see the only thing that truly mattered in his life, he was granted the chance to bathe in Draco's grace and presence once again. Vinnie would die, and he could not think of a better way to go than in the place of someone he loved...

_'I love you, Draco.'_

Forever and always.

The executioner raised his axe once more and stepped forward.

Vinnie closed his eyes.

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A/N: Spoiler alert: He survives. _Pfft. _And before anyone starts questioning my sanity, the Valerians are _actually _plot relevant. HAHAHAHAHAHA!

(1)Canadians pronounce 'sorry' differently from Americans. While some use the American way of saying sorry (sah-rry) and probably had never heard another Canadian say it any differently, we pronounce it like this: sow-rry. I find myself using them interchangeably.

**IMPORTANT NOTE: **For the next five weeks, I will be travelling to France and Egypt to visit relatives. While I most likely will have internet, there is no guarantee. Last time I was promised internet in Egypt, a political group got all butthurt about being kicked out of presidency, and decided going all terrorist and blowing up the building controlling the internet in our area was an appropriate response. I kid you not. This happened a day before our plane landed. _Fun._

_This is a blessing in disguise! _Not for me, but for you guys. I tend to write a shit ton when I'm feeling depressed, and I really hate being in Egypt because of... personal reasons. Anyways, guaranteed depressive mood as soon as the plane lands. Which means updates as soon as I'm back (or as soon as I can get them to my beta).

**ON THE VISUAL NOVEL **I've got a surprisingly good response on the possibility of a Scourgify VN. I've decided to post updates on my profile on what's going on with that little project, much like how I give an estimate on chapter completion. So far, I've found character sprites for Luna, Ginny, a Live 2D model of a mochi dog, and I have a hidden route where Valeria goes on her adventure with Tom Riddle. Fun, fun.

-GUEST REVIEWS-

Random Lurker: Damn. I tried rereading the Narcissa chapter with Sound of Silence playing, and it _does _add a whole new effect to it. Sad stuff. I read it again with "Kettering" by The Antlers on, which also got me all teary, but then that song could make anything seem sad.

Ah yes, no worries. Valeria will remain as imperfect as she already is. I find it adds to her charm as well (though I'm biased). Viva la Valeria! HA! I like that. I might make it the Valerians victory cry.

Athemas: No no, thank you for reading and reviewing! Puts a giant smile on my face, every time I see a review.

NatNicole: Oh dear. What are you confused about? And thanks!

suzaan: Ah, no problem. I try to respond to most reviews. Your enthusiasm is flattering. Thanks for reading!

Miss Anon: I know, I love Valere too. His twitchy, paranoid self is so endearing.

Miss Anon: I... don't actually know if this is from the same person. But thanks for reviewing!

Io: Thanks so much! Yeah I loved writing Beauxbatons. I might write omakes based there, if the mood strikes me.

day: Umbridge. Or Filch. Or Fudge. Or some mixture of all three. Could be worse.

Guest: Thanks :)

Guest: Well I see someone is shipping Charlie and Valeria hard. Remains to be seen.

That's it folks!

-Fiction

PS. I recently got Tales of Beetle the Bard. Fascinating stuff, gives me ideas for another one of my fics...


	14. Diagon Alley Part 1 - Ahoy There, Matey!

A/N: I'M LATE, I KNOW, I'M SORRY! It's because I'm always unsatisfied with a chapter and have to change it, and because I say stupid, time-consuming things like "I should start watching One Piece".

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Frankly, you people frighten me. Here I am, sitting in a corner unaware, when BAM! We're almost at the 300 review mark. Which means I will be writing another perspective request. Which is awesome, but still. It _startled_ me.

Chapter dedicated to **Elim Garak **who helped me out with a certain aspect about the Valerians that bothered me. Thanks!

**IMPORTANT NOTE: **There is a math concept explained in this chapter. Don't worry, you don't have to understand it, as its main purpose here is for a character bullshitting around. Also, this chapter HAS BEEN SPLIT IN HALF. Thus, there are some things that won't be explained right away. Mostly, I'm just butt hurt over being forced to cut the chapter in two, and am now shoving my discontent in your faces.

**Ten points to whoever can recognize the blatant Shingeki no Kyojin references. **Oh, and that one DA:I reference.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Shingeki no Kyojin, and DA:I. Also, I got my Golden Ratio references from mathisfun . com.

Beta: Jin95

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**Chapter 14: Diagon Alley Part 1 - Ahoy There, Matey!**

It was with great excitement and pride that Valeria tore open her heavy envelope alongside her older twin. Unfortunately, her dear brother tore through the actual letter as well, shredding the parchment to unreadable bits. Valeria and her parents suspected he didn't even realize it was a letter at all and thought they were just tearing things in general; though it didn't really matter in the end as the contents of both their letters would be exactly the same.

(On the contrary, charming little Vinnie was well aware he was ruining a letter that many young magical children dreamt of receiving the day they turned eleven—he just didn't care.)

Yet, it was also with great trepidation and anxiety that the young reincarnation read through her letters. The Hogwarts acceptance letter itself was considered by most to be purely customary and a waste of parchment, as the main content literally has not changed since the Founding of Hogwarts—not counting the translations of Old English all the way to modern day English. For Valeria, however, it was the physical manifestation of every child's impossible dream back in her own dimension. It was also the gateway into her worst nightmare: Plot.

The reincarnation automatically cursed under her breath.

It was slowly morphing into a tic, in which she was compelled to utter an oath every time she thought of or heard the word. At one point, while discussing a new novel Charlie had lent her in their letters, she compulsively swore every time she wrote the word Plot—

Valeria cursed.

—and every time she read it in the Gryffindor's replies. Her mother had overheard her, chastised her for five minutes, and then subsequently praised her when she found out Valeria had been replying to a Weasley, having assumed her ten-year-old daughter had been writing hate mail to a blood traitor.

But that was neither here, nor there.

It was decidedly eerie and dysphoric seeing her name, _Valeria Irma Crabbe_, addressed with _'We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'. _It was a name that, by all rights, should not exist on that parchment, and yet here they were. The four of them—which should have been the _three_ of them—sitting around a coffee table opening two acceptance letters—which should have been _only one_ letter. She shouldn't have this letter, shouldn't have nonsensical 'pure' blood, shouldn't have magic. She should've been a _squib_ or something.

Heck, by all rights Valeria should have been _dead_.

_'Should've, would've, could've.'_

What did it matter to her anymore?

She was stuck where she was. She thought she had gotten over it.

Clearly not.

Clearly the situation and circumstances around her existence still mattered to her.

_'Clearly. How whiny and angsty am I?'_

Valeria had done enough of that teenaged bullshit when she was Valerie.

"Valerie, dear, are you excited?" Her father asked her, seeing as Vinnie was currently gnawing on his letter and evidently did not care.

Valeria took a moment to note the irony her 'nickname' provided and her father's excellent timing.

Whatever. Very soon she would have a magic stick and blow things up. Very healthy stress reliever, in terms of teenage angst. If one could even consider her teenaged.

"About as excited as the next person," she replied with forced blandness, and her parents couldn't help but glance at Vinnie and the parchment sticking out of his mouth.

Excited, indeed.

A small war cry sounded from the coffee table in front of them, joined by several other roars. The Valerians had sent a small contingent from their side of the manor to bear witness to the 'Goddess's sacred rite of passage' or something, and from what Valeria could tell they had taken great offense to Vinnie's less than gentle treatment of his letter.

"Liberate the letter!"

"This is an insult to our Goddess's coming of age!"

"Slay the beast!"

They charged across the crystal table top and waved their carved swords, axes, and needles, wooden feet clinking against the surface and the armour Binky had sown for them making a racket. Except for this one figurine with questionable fashion taste, that one just ran after them screaming something about them 'ruining his life' and 'the cast will hear about this'. The girl scrambled and opened the pocket of her robes wide in front of Vinnie's face. The contingent of figurine-people soared in an elegant—yet fearsome—arc, disappearing into her robes one by one, and the eleven-year-old girl swore she could hear little pings and an exuberant digitized voice in her head shouting, _"Perfect Score!"_ The folds of Valeria's clothing gave off muffled sounds of surprise before quieting down. One of the warriors squealed, she was sure, but she was too busy slapping Vinnie's malevolent hand away from her pocket.

The grey-eyed witch hissed at him, "I will not have another manor-wide, genocidal war between you and my sentient, figurine fanatics!"

The twins scowled at each other, Vinnie shooting the bulging pile in Valeria's robes a look of extreme displeasure before resuming chewing on his letter. Besides their father and Valeria's ire, sweets, and quite possibly Draco (for whatever reason Valeria could not fathom), the Valerians were the only things that could inspire in Vinnie the energy to get worked up. _Read: any emotion aside from 'complete and utter blankness'_. The mini-adult was not quite sure whether it was because the toys had escaped from under his oppressive thumb, their vicious six-month long war, their appropriation of his playroom and that entire section of the second floor, the several assassination attempts, or a combination of all of the above; Vinnie hated the Valerian cult with a deep seated passion that could out burn the fiery pits of Hell.

The Crabbe girl rubbed her forehead.

A spontaneous migraine attacked her at the reminder of the suddenly sentient toy host and what the family had dubbed The War of 1990—something the Valerians themselves called The Half Century's War, The Attack on Titan, The Rise of the Righteous, and That-One-Time-When-We-Planned-To-Kill-A-Ten-Year-Old-God-Child interchangeably. It truly spoke to her family's airheaded-ness and complete and utter dysfunction that they did not even _notice _the War until its peak.

Or rather, Valeria did not notice. Her parents had described what they initially noticed as 'cute', and Binky had blatantly aided and abetted the Valerian's war efforts. Confusing, as the toy figurines had been obviously hell-bent on ending her ten-year-old brother's life, but alas. Their family was airheaded and dysfunctional to a tee, and Malfoy and Goyle had not seen fit to mention the transformation of a docile, _virtually_ intelligent villager toy set to bloodthirsty, suddenly _self-aware_ cultists, not even to their own parents—the _idiots. _

_'All of them, idiots! Whose bright idea was it to advertise artificial intelligence as '98% realistic—they seem almost real!''_

Somewhere deep inside of her, Valeria could feel the hate for Child's Play Inc. festering like an angry wound.

At least the Crabbes managed to broker peace between Vinnie and the toys.

_'And we took all their corporate money in the lawsuit.'_

That had been Valeria's idea. The vindication had been glorious.

_They were still stuck with bloodthirsty extremists, but at least they had what's rest of the fuckers' money._

_Oh_, but were they stuck with bloodthirsty extremists. _Sapient_ ones.

The reincarnation rubbed her temples in a valiant effort to stave off the migraine the entire conundrum of the Valerians' sentience presented her.

Valeria's mother smiled, lips curling up in an unfortunately sinister manner, and stroked her hair, "We're so very proud of you two."

The pocketed warriors' muffled cheers echoed her statement, and Valeria gave a wobbly smile back while Vinnie stopped chewing on the coveted acceptance letter in response—though that might've just been because he got a nasty taste of ink. The drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth was tinged a slight emerald, if one looked close enough.

"The ink tastes like spinach and grass," he said blankly after extricating the letter. The Crabbe family raised their brows. Valeria stared at her own letter for a second before giving it a giant lick.

_Huh_.

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It was no use, Valeria quickly realized with horror.

No matter how many times she licked her dragon tongue flavoured ice cream, all she could taste was spinach and grass. She threw it in the trash angrily, the can gobbling it up with an audible burp.

The mini-adult glanced over at the Unholy Trio, who appeared to be enjoying their ice creams immensely. Even Vinnie's blank expression seemed pleased, despite having sucked on the ink covered parchment for a good few minutes. Valeria did not believe he could taste even a hint of his Nundu breath ice cream, which, considering what the flavour was inspired by, would undoubtedly be horrifically strong.

_'Perhaps he likes the taste of spinach and grass.'_

Or just enjoyed the fact that he was eating ice cream at all. Their mother had banned him a year ago after discovering he had eaten himself into a high risk of a magical strain of diabetes. He was finally allowed this treat in celebration of receiving their Hogwarts letters.

_'…That actually might be why he tried to eat his letter,' _Valeria realized belatedly. She should have caught that, as she had taken the brunt of the responsibility of herding Vinnie away from all the sweets and sugary treats. _'Oops.'_

The girl eyed the other two Slytherin wannabes currently doing unspeakable things to their ice creams. She expected the Ape's behaviour, but really, Draco? _Really?_

It was made extra weird by his flavour of choice: Slytherin. Yes, the Slytherin flavour. No, not the House. There were no House flavours. It was Slytherin as in _Salazar _Slytherin. The Founder Salazar Slytherin, the wizard Salazar Slytherin. As in a person.

As in a _person flavoured_ ice cream.

That a ten-year-old boy was currently devouring with gusto.

Who, by the by, had the most pleased grin she had seen on his face ever, including the aftermath of The Broomstick Incident.

Yes, Valeria was also having trouble wrapping her mind around a person flavoured anything, and she had four months to get used to it. She actually went a few weeks thinking they were House inspired flavours. She wasn't sure if it had been denial or honest confusion at the time because, sure enough, it wasn't only a Salazar Slytherin flavour. They had five people flavoured frozen treats.

No, Valeria can—despite what her father believed—count.

The final flavour was Merlin, who, according to rumour, tasted like power and squid.

One could see how Valeria was still having trouble accepting these relatively new releases. Though in all honesty she was a little, well, morbidly curious as to what these five famous people tasted like in the eyes of the artisan Florean Fortescue, and also severely disappointed there wasn't a Morgana le Fay flavour.

What? They included a Merlin flavour, why not his Dark, female counterpart?

Anyhow, one would be hard pressed to deny even the mildest curiosity as to what these flavours were like despite how outrageous the premise of it all was, _and _how disturbing the varied skin tone colours Mister Fortescue had decided to use for his ice cream was. Really, he _couldn't_ have decided to just colour them with their respective House colours and Merlin's preferred colour, _could_ he? Though, Valeria conceded that it added to the people's morbid fascination with these new ice cream flavours. Even she couldn't bring herself to ignore the people flavoured ice creams on display.

Valeria snuck a quick glance at the dark block of Merlin flavoured ice cream through the parlor window, then at Helga's pale, almost rosy block.

She unconsciously licked her spinach and grass flavoured lips.

What better way to prove herself a badger than to taste the very flavour of their Founder, to partake in the people tasting and become one with dear Hufflepuff herself? It would be like some sort of twisted version of the Christian communion. They ate Jesus, why not… Helga Hufflepuff?

Valeria mentally took a step back at that thought and noted that she was working her way up to an excuse to taste ice cream flavoured people—no… no that did not sound right. It was people flavoured ice cream… yes, yes that sounded... right?

She also noted that she may have been obsessing a tad, and that it was messing with her mind.

Had she just compared Helga Hufflepuff to a religious figure…?

Yes, yes she had.

The little girl pinched the bridge of her nose.

_'Screw it.'_

She lunged forward when the blond boy took a moment to breathe, and took a generous bite out of his Salazar flavoured ice cream. She swished it around with her tongue.

...It tasted like spinach and grass.

Valeria cursed violently alongside Draco.

_'Stupid, stupid, stupid Hogwarts and their stupidly stupid flavoured ink!' _

Why, _why _could it not have tasted something like lime, or green apple, or _something! _

Spinach and grass!

Really!

The nerve of them!

_'Ruining my _ice cream!_'_

A thought entered her mind, in which the Hogwarts staff possibly flavoured their ink with something nasty in an effort to dissuade the young children from sampling their mail.

They were taking their teaching a bit too far, in Valeria's opinion.

She turned and stared at Vinnie's ice cream and the Ape's orange sorbet— the most muggle flavour of the four of them—and considered taking a bite out of both in an attempt to taste something other than the Hogwarts ink, before immediately dismissing the thought. The Nundu breath did not sound attractive, and neither did the Ape's sloppy seconds.

She sighed.

"You—You—!" Draco's pale face was pink. "Have you no class?!"

"No," the girl stared morosely at his Salazar ice cream, and the Valerians in her pocket wiggled at the shouting. "I am wild and free of such restrictive nonsense."

His eye visibly twitched.

"You're not going to ruin theirs, are you?"

"No," she repeated in a monotone voice. "I will not deign to grace their ice creams with my essence."

They both flinched at how stupendously disgusting she managed to make that statement sound. Valeria pinched her lips.

"I mean, really," the mini-adult threw a look at the two idiots. "Would you take a bite out of _those?_"

Valeria could see him visibly consider it—skipping over the Ape's orange sorbet entirely—and zero in on Vinnie's old, yellow dishwater coloured ice cream. He snorted.

"Vinnie's looks alright," he replied matter-of-factly. "And you share food all the time."

"Are you joking?" She pinned him with an incredulous look. "That's Nundu breath flavoured ice cream. You cannot be telling me you'd even want to smell that!"

"And what exactly is a Nundu?"

"You don't know what a Nundu is? You _actually_ don't know what a _Nundu_ is?"

His flat look said something along the lines of 'not even if you clubbed me over the head with it'.

Or at least that was Valeria's interpretation of his expression, mostly because she felt like whacking the snooty look off his face half the time.

The animal enthusiast gave a long suffering sigh. "Nundu's are considered by most to be singlehandedly the most dangerous creatures on Earth, though in my personal opinion that title should go to Dementors—and don't even get me started on those creatures. A Nundu's breath is filled with disease and incredibly toxic, capable of exterminating entire villages of people on its own," she smirked a little at the blond's wrinkling nose. "It takes at least a hundred wizards to take down a lone Nundu, while in comparison a dragon would sometimes require only ten wizards to neutralize."

In a rare fit of eloquence (but certainly not intelligence), Vinnie piped up in his most inquisitive, dull voice, "Is that why it tastes like spinach and grass?"

Valeria stared hard at her older, twin brother while Draco looked a little lost.

"No, Vinnie," she patted his thick head. "The ink from the parchment you ate is still on your tongue."

He furrowed his brows, "What parchment?"

...

...

Of course.

_Of course_.

"The one that you ate earlier this morning, Vinnie. Your Hogwarts acceptance letter, remember?" The mini-adult explained patiently, ignoring Draco's disturbed look. The boy's brows only furrowed deeper.

"So I'm not tasting my ice cream?" The dark-eyed boy asked, receiving another pat for making the connection.

"No, you're not."

Valeria's favourite brick promptly let his arm go slack, dropping his ice cream on the cobbled stone of Diagon Alley, and wandered off in the general direction of where their parents were buying their potions' supplies.

"Oh, Vinnie_,_" the reincarnation shook her head fondly, deliberately ignoring the incredulous looks the other Alley goers shot her brother.

Valeria started in surprise when a toy warrior, one with silver hair fibres, neon green painted marble irises, and Beachwood finishing, had managed to climb the folds of the pocket and stuck his head out. "Your Grace," he cried out. "Has this great Noon-doo beaten back your other half?"

Valeria noted with amusement the drastic change in Draco's and Goyle's moods at the sudden appearance of the toy cultist. The way they instantaneously dropped their ice creams and backed up with much fanfare like a pair of backup dancers was a comical sight.

"What is _that_ doing here?" The Malfoy boy squeaked.

Before the witch could respond to either of them, another one—this time with aqua blue hair fibres, burgundy irises, and a deep mahogany polish—popped out with a wave, "Your Holiness, it is such an honour to be carried so intimately in your pocket."

Valeria marvelled at how the figurines looked exactly li—

Wait.

What?

_Intimate?_

**_What_**_?_

"I must beg for forgiveness on behalf of my subordinate for his transgressions. His forwardness is unbecoming of an honoured Stoic among our warrior platoon. I am afraid he is not as well disciplined as the other one," she continued, her voice even and firm, wooden eyelids clicking placidly. "I hope with all my ball joints that his insolence has not spoiled your afternoon with your... companions. Please, if you must, take your ire out on myself rather than my foolish subordinate."

For several moments, Valeria stared dumbstruck at the toy warriors, her mouth gaping open with reckless abandon. It was one of the few times any of the figurines had directly addressed her; she had avoided them as much as she could, as they made her extremely uncomfortable. The little girl could not decide if the unease was out of rampant guilt, denial, misplaced loyalty towards Vinnie, or disconcertion at their fervent worship of her eleven-year-old self—granted, Valeria _had _made half-assed plans to present herself as a god to some muggles in a grand scale prank, but that was _completely_ different from having a new race entirely dependent on her for moral and spiritual guidance.

…But Christ, was this one eloquent. She had not expected the Valerians to be so _cultured_. Where did this one even learn that kind of language, let alone how to address a 'queen', or a term such as 'stoic'—albeit, learned it incorrectly. The Crabbe wasn't an expert on stoicism at all, but even she knew a full-scale uprising was the complete opposite of that school of thought.

"What exactly do you mean by 'stoic'," the Crabbe questioned apprehensively. The aqua-haired superior cocked her head woodenly.

"A Stoic," she replied calmly and evenly. "A member of a highly respected, specialized sect of our force known for their accomplishments and successes in battle. One who practices great mental fortitude, patience, and strength of heart in all areas of life so as to retain a level head in the heat of battle. One who does not indulge in idle curiosities, nor endangers their entire platoon at their whimsy." At this, her burgundy marbles narrowed pointedly at the silver-haired 'Stoic', who had gone as stiff as—well, he was already stiff as a plank seeing as he was made almost entirely of wood, but he looked incredibly uncomfortable nevertheless.

_'Well, that's one way to interpret stoicism.'_

Valeria chewed her lip, "And you're—what? The commander of this contingent?"

"Aye," the Commander straightened and brought her hand up to her chin in a strange salute reminiscent of the universal 'call me' sign with the pointer finger sticking out. Valeria's brow rose at the pirate-like affirmation and bizarre mannerism. "I am the commanding Stoic officer of the Honorary Guard of the Goddess, currently escorting the Witness. Ahoy!"

The mini-adult jumped a little at the seemingly random outburst as another head of fibre hair popped out with a wave. She had straight black hair, black painted irises, and a pale yellow polish—possibly pine, but Valeria's knowledge of different types of wood ended there after she got bored of wandlore. The raven haired soldier moved with fluid, controlled movements and she too brought up her hand in a 'call me' sign to her chin.

"Your Crabbiness," she greeted quietly, and Valeria had to suppress a snort.

"My second in command," the Commander indicated the other female toy, then, with a drop of disdain in her voice tilted her head at the silver haired one. "And my third."

The Third hastily brought his hand to his chin in their salute. "R-Rock on!" He shouted in a near querulous yelp.

_'…Right.'_

"What the bloody hell is wrong with these things," Malfoy interjected rudely, pointing shakily at the three Stoics hanging out of her pocket. "They're talking rubbish and—why are they even still _here? _The Ministry decided to burn—"

"Court case. Appeal. Decision overturned. Missed it when you ran off to Mumbai with your parents," she interrupted him blithely, paused, then continued. "Unofficially, we got loads of money out of damages, then bought off Ministry officials with the stipulation of containing the illegal artificial intelligence… I can see why your father likes doing it."

Draco sputtered indignantly while Goyle contemplated his dropped ice cream. "You have no right—"He stopped himself, glared, then stormed off, dragging Goyle along behind him. Evidently he foresaw the longwinded argument that would occur should he defend his father's crookedness.

_'Good riddance.'_

Silence reigned, before its rule was so rudely overthrown. "So, is everyone in your goddess-guard-thingy a Stoic? Better yet: what is a goddess-guard-thingy?"

"The Honorary Guard of the Goddess," the Third corrected proudly, painted neon marbles… _glittering_. "A small crew of handpicked warriors who silently watch over the Goddess—er… _you—_ and aid her in her times of need. Though everyone else refers to us as just the Guard." He smiled sheepishly—actually _smiled _somehow despite his features being entirely carved from wood and marble.

_'…So a group of professional stalkers, basically.'_

The aqua-haired Commander flicked her eyes from where Draco and Goyle had been moments before and continued, the barest hint of frustration seeping into her voice, "Unfortunately, the three of us are the only Stoics currently in the Guard. The others have been assigned as scouts for the grounds and as sentries for the Playroom and its surrounding halls. We do, however, have a Berserker so I suppose he makes up for it _a little_."

A muffled yelp of indignation answered the Commander's off-handed remark and Valeria winced.

_'Somebody_ _is feeling salty.'_

"Most Holy," the Commander addressed the Crabbe, who startled after a few moments when she realized the toy was addressing _her_. "Our sincerest apologies. It was never the Guard's intention to disrupt your activities with your companions and your other half, especially on a Holy Rite of Passage. I hope that you might find the same patience and tolerance you afford your other half, and extend your benevolence towards us lowly beings."

The three Stoics bowed their heads in submission, awaiting her 'judgement'.

"Um. You're forgiven…?" Valeria answered awkwardly, head spinning.

Patience? Tolerance? _Benevolence? _This was probably the first time anyone in either of Valeria's lives had described her in such a way, never mind so reverently and….fearfully. What did they think she'd do, break them? Snap their limbs, stomp on their wooden carcasses? Throw them to Vinnie—_that. _That was exactly what they thought she would do, she realized with a mounting horror. There had been a little girl toy hiding beneath a massive body pile, and Valeria _had _thrown her to Vinnie…

The image the Valerians held her to had suddenly become that much more stilted and twisted. It was one thing to assign the traits one would Mother Teresa to an eleven-year-old child_—_it was another thing entirely to fear the 'embodiment of benevolence'. What kind of message would that send an entire race? And—And—People didn't _fear _Valeria, she was harmless! The worst she'd ever done was throw around scathing remarks and pull questionably harmless pranks for crying out loud!

_'And kill little girls,' _Valeria couldn't help but think sardonically. _'You kill little girls too, apparently. Good job Valeria, you've become an accomplice to murder before you even attended Hogwarts. I daresay even Tom Riddle _himself _would be impressed! You've killed your very own Moaning Myrtle, you slippery snake, you!'_

She growled and kicked at a pebble, the stone going high and hitting an older girl in the head. She turned around, her dark, beautiful face glaring malevolently at her. Valeria felt a shiver run down her spine, and quickly flashed an apologetic smile—but the girl had already stomped away with a huff, and the Commander and her subordinates had disappeared back into the pocket.

"Wait," Valeria yelled in alarm at the toys. They didn't pop back up, so she stuck a hand in and grabbed at cloth, pulling out one of the figurines. They blinked at one another.

"Who the hell are you?" The Crabbe demanded at the outrageously dressed man hanging by her forefinger and thumb. He was dressed all in white, style reminiscent of a nun's attire—only in this case, he had a woven cherry blossom hanging from his neck. The nun imposter squealed in response and the girl rolled her eyes, shoving another hand in and pulling out the Second in command by the hood of her… armored ninja outfit. _Ninja outfit. She was wearing a ninja outfit, why in the blazing hell was she wearing a ninja outfit—_

"This is the Witness," the Second answered blandly without prompt, black marbles half-lidded almost lazily.

"The Witness…?"

Unfortunately, the Second did not continue her explanation and stared obstinately back at her, as if she had answered all the questions she could possibly ask with that one statement. Valeria looked between the high pitched, gleeful man in one hand to the inflexible Stoic in her other. She groaned in frustration, set the Stoic down on her shoulder, and reached in to grab another figurine. This time she pulled out a violently red-haired male wielding an axe, then promptly dropped him on her shoulder without bothering to ask why he was wearing a mini bra of all things on his head, and struck gold with her next venture into her pocket.

"What the hell is a Witness?"

"A Witness," the Commander replied tranquilly as though she were continuing their last Q and A, and not dangling from her fingers like a limp doll—which she was_, _all things considered. "One who bears witness to the life of the Goddess. One who observes and attends the milestones in Her Holy life. Witnesses commit these events and details to memory, devoting their entire lives to remembrance and adding to Scripture. Also known as Truth Sayers and Yellers, for their devotion to spreading the new additions to Scripture to the Valerian masses."

"…Fuck."

This posed countless problems. Every action, every word was watched, recorded, and interpreted with religious zeal. There was no telling how this Witness fanatic would perceive her and twist the views of the rest of the legion of toys. And she couldn't just say she wasn't a god and invalidate all their beliefs. She knew better than to try and deny the delusions of fanatics—that usually lead to violent reactions.

The mini adult chewed her lip, eyeing the mild Commander and the fervent Witness calculatingly. She could just button up her pocket and hope the Witness didn't hear anything until she found a more permanent solution, but… she both enjoyed and was intrigued by the Guard.

When they reported their discovery of the Valerians' sentience to the Ministry and filed a lawsuit against Child's Play Inc., the Department of Magical Equipment Control, in conjunction with the Auror's Office, had declared the Valerians' existence in violation of a clause under the Restrictions Against the Creation and Fabrication of Dark Objects Act. Apparently, anything fabricated that could think on its own was Dark, and therefore dangerous and illegal, barring pre-established things such as talking portraits—_thank god_. They had a point, what with things like Tom Riddle's diary floating around, but there was a glaring problem with this law: it condemns all artificial intelligence. In fact, they failed to even classify them as creatures and neglected to consult the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The department that dealt with them were a subdivision of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Magical _Equipment _Control. Equipment! The Valerians may have been _equipment _once, but they were far past that.

_They'd evolved_.

But they failed to recognize that and ordered a burning. The artificial intelligence was to be burned in a fortnight and production of The Village Play Set ceased.

Obviously, the family had saved the newborn race from the burning, and gotten saddled with an entirely new, unwanted, highly illegal race as a result… but Valeria never again had the picture of little, screaming people and flames licking at wood hanging over her head. She'd gone two days with the crackle of fire following her around before she cracked and helped her father devise a plan to save them from the anti-artificial intelligence law. The girl had been all too happy to wash her hands of them afterwards, her conscious clean. _She saved them so now she doesn't owe them anything_, had been her reasoning. She'd been scared of them. She wanted to ignore what they meant about her brother, her family, and herself.

With her conscious squeaky clean, of course.

The reincarnation had gotten by these past few months pretending they were tiny, violent neighbours she could just ignore, but now they'd gone from a walking, sentient migraine to cultured… people.

_'Double fuck.'_

Valeria was in deep.

How to question the Guard without encouraging the cult itself, maybe even discourage it…. Could she find a way to disillusion the Valerians of her apparent godhood? Maybe even completely eradicate this ridiculous notion? Convince them to integrate into society like proper people? As much as they could with their perpetual house arrest. It took the toys' confinement and most of the Galleons they won from Child's Play Inc. to buy off their artificial lives and keep them from the burning. She could be rid of this savage—

By god, she sounded exactly like her Canadian forefathers.

_'Yes, Val, strip them of their culture, why don't you?' _That snide little voice in her said. _'They're just savages, like the Aboriginal peoples your ancestors had ravaged when they settled in the New World. Just like great-great-great-great grandpa Brennan. He must be so proud.' _

_Okay, no. Let's not do that_. They were not savage, they were just desperate to survive in a world that would spare no mercy for them.

Just treat them like people, and in turn they will do the same with her. Their strange little fledgling culture was fascinating anyways.

"Your Crabbiness," the Commander prompted as she tapped a strange contraption strapped to her thighs and above the ball joints of her hips, the straps stretching from the tips of her jointed feet to just above her shoulder sockets. Valeria blinked at her.

"Would you like to accompany me on my errands?"

The tapping stilled. "Are we not already accompanying your Holiness?"

"I meant as companions, not silent guards stuffed into my pockets." Speaking of, that was likely highly uncomfortable for the Guard. "You could sit on my shoulders, along with the rest of your contingent."

"By your command," the Commander bowed her head.

_'No, damn you!'_

"Only if you want to," Valeria controlled her impatience. "I'd rather you and your friends be present out of want, not duty or obedience."

"They are not my friends," the Commander corrected on reflex, and an outraged yell that sounded suspiciously like the Third came from her pocket. "But I would be honoured to accompany you as a companion."

The Commander offered her the tiniest smile and Valeria grinned back at her. Well, until—

"_Ahoy!"_ The Commander yelled with animalistic force, her face twisting into a fierce scowl of epic proportions, and it took every ounce of Valeria's will to keep from jumping.

Two long black tethers snaked out of the device strapped to the Commander, hooking themselves in the material on Valeria's shoulder. The mahogany figurine twisted her hips and was wrenched out of Valeria's fingers with a roar, shooting out to land on her shoulder with the Second and the redhead at frightening speeds. At the same time, two more tethers shot from her pocket to hook onto her other shoulder, the Third Stoic whipping out on the other end with extreme ferocity, his face warped in a war cry. Behind him trailed two more warriors, each hanging onto one of his hands and with equally loud roars emitting from their tiny throats. The Guard, including the Second and the bra head, latched onto her unbound hair as one being.

From the corner of Valeria's eye, the Commander smiled serenely up at her, all traces of the terrifying transformation gone. "Shall we?"

"U-um," Valeria's teeth chattered and it took effort to unfreeze her muscles. "Ye-Yeah, s-sure."

What. The. _Hell. _

It was a damn wonder the cultists hadn't managed to assassinate her brother with these devices. One of them could have flown up and slit Vinnie's throat! Where in god's name did they get those? Where? It was altogether unlikely the Valerians developed this technology in the span of a year, and Binky wasn't of the inventive persuasion.

Just who was the idiot that gave them these bizarre contraptions? _Who was the idiot!_

She was going to kill them.

"Your Crabbiness!" The Witness cried from her fingertips, shocking her out of her thoughts. "Where shall I sit?"

Valeria stared blankly at him, spitting out the first thought in her mind much like she did with Snape or Lucius Malfoy. "You look like a nun."

"I do?" The Witness preened for whatever reason.

"I mean," the Crabbe sputtered. "You could hang from the lip of my pocket." And promptly dropped him back in.

"A most intimate gesture!" He screamed up as he fell down.

Squaring her shoulders for the Guard, the reincarnation began to walk carefully through the throngs of magical people towards _Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, _where the Crabbe parents were hopefully still gathering their potions ingredients.

"So…" Valeria began to ask about their weird devices, before she remembered something important when it came to basic social customs. "Do any of you have names?"

"Yes, we are the Valerians," the Third proclaimed jovially, twirling one finger in his silver hair fibres.

"What about personal names?"

The Guard stilled on her shoulders.

"…Personal names?" Bra head questioned incredulously, fiddling with the pink straps tied to his head. "By my ball joints, that is something reserved for the gods."

"Yes, the barbaria— pardon, Berserker is correct," the Commander said, ignoring his derisive snort. "We are the Valerians and nothing more."

Valeria began to chew on her lip. "Aren't you, though? I mean, _you _are the Commander of the Honorary Guard of the Goddess, or whatever. You are female, with mahogany finishing, blue hair fibres, and burgundy irises. You are calm, collected, passive-aggressive, and adept at diplomacy—or at least with handling me. You're_ someone_. So is bra head here: he's a Berserker, has hair so red it makes your eyeballs want to bathe in acid, and is probably a pervert. No, definitely a pervert.

"And names aren't reserved for humans only. Everything has a name, so long as there's someone to call them by it."

The Commander looked thoughtful. The Berserker waved his axe around dangerously.

"Then I will gratefully take up the name you have dubbed me with," the redhead announced. "From now on, I shall be known as Braheed!"

"Yeah, sure why not," she responded absently, eyeing the apothecary's sign down the street. "Braheed's close enough."

"I wish to be known as Witness Nun!" Nun shouted up from the pocket. Valeria nodded slightly.

"A name," the Commander mused aloud. "To be known by something that is yours alone…"

"Have you thought of something?" Valeria asked, mildly amused by the Commander's deep contemplation.

"Yes…" she peered up at the reincarnation, burgundy marbles flashing. "My name is Noon-doo."

_'Subtle.'_

"Hey!" The Third whined at the Commander. "I wanted to be Noon-doo!"

The Commander blinked, "Then you can be Noon, brother of mine. And I shall be Doo."

_'Siblings, maybe? Well that explains their off-kilter dynamic, and absolutely nothing about Valerian families. They _do _have families, right?'_

Whatever.

She'll have all the time in the world to learn about them.

_Wait, but she was leaving for Hogwarts in a few months._

"Second," Valeria squinted to the side at the pine figurine sitting silently on her shoulder with Commander Doo and Braheed. "Have you decided on a name?"

"…No."

"Oh, okay."

It was in the middle of the other two warriors arguing over the name 'Dragoon' that the Second straightened her spine and whispered, "Father Crabbe at one o'clock."

"Valerie!" Her father cried from the entrance of the apothecary, waving wildly at her.

She grinned back at his enthusiasm in spite of herself. "Father."

Valeria approached the potions shop, and as the crowd cleared they spotted Victoria Crabbe along with the Unholy Trio. Valere rushed up to her and eyed her suspiciously.

"You shouldn't wander around alone," he reprimanded sternly and his daughter rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't alone, I had the The Honorary Guard of—"

"—the Goddess. Oh yes, the Guard, excellent," her father nodded approvingly and his eyes brightened when they landed on the toys lining her shoulders. The Crabbe patriarch raised his fist up in a rock sign and grinned dopily at Doo.

"Rock on, Commander!"

Doo responded likewise, raising her fist to her chin calmly. "Rock on, Father Crabbe."

Valeria stared dumbly at them.

"Are the Magical Maneuverability Devices I built the Stoic division working?"

"Indeed, Father," Doo nodded at him. "It took a lot of practice and balancing techniques at first, but they work excellently," her voice dropped ominously. "We are putting them to good use."

"Wonderful."

"Y-You!" Valeria managed to choke out, pointing a half-raised finger up at her father as his wife walked over to join the conversation. "_You're _the idiot who gave them these devices…. And taught them these—these—nonsense mannerisms? What were you thinking?"

Valere reared back, affronted. "Of course not. That was your mother. Well, I taught them 'rock on' and made them the MMD's, but everything else was all Victoria! She trained them!"

"Aren't they splendid?" Victoria puffed out her chest and her lips curled up in a sinister smile. "Ahoy!"

The entirety of the Guard straightened to attention and brought their fists to their chins.

"_Ahoy!"_

Valeria's eye twitched spastically.

* * *

(V)(° ㇬0 °)(V)

* * *

The family of four plus two stepped into the narrow, dusty old shop. They all eyed the lone, rickety looking chair in the corner, and walked right back out. Valeria and her brother were promptly kicked back inside with a pouch of gold and instructions to find their very own wands.

The eleven-year-old girl latched onto the sleeve of a sneering blond.

He slapped her hand away and escaped with his lumbering friend and the Crabbe parents.

She supposed she should be thankful that her presence hadn't changed his destined meeting with the Boy-Who-Lived when he went to get his own school supplies. Truthfully, she was hoping that their imminent bickering would distract her from this rite of passage.

Oh well, the Valerians were a distraction all on their own.

The shop was a derelict space, save for the wall to ceiling shelves piled high with thin boxes in various states of decay. Some were fairly new, more with old stains adorning the paper boxes, and others outright crumbling away. The owner was nowhere to be seen. She says 'derelict save for the boxes' despite the counter with the bell and the suspiciously old chair, because it was very clear to her when she walked into the room that the wands they encased were very much alive, and very much 'lived' in this space.

As far as she understood from the books in her past life, wands were non-sentient tools used to focus and direct magic. They were obviously highly regarded for such purposes because it was as simple as point and shoot, yet Valeria could very clearly recall other types of focus tools in _Faddy's Foreign Fascinations _that were equally common as the wand in other wizarding cultures_. _Some jewelled bracelets, heavy looking intricate cuffs, mysterious looking necklaces and chokers, and, oddly enough, a ratty old grimoire.

Valeria personally thought the cuffs were more convenient, as it was also a point and shoot kind of tool and much more difficult to lose than a fancy looking stick. The necklace and choker required more concentration and effort as one had to direct the flow of magic entirely with their mind, and she wasn't entirely sure how or why the grimoire worked the way it did. Apparently, one would record the spell in the grimoire (though it wasn't just a simple word; it relied on verses and passages from ancient texts, or something along those lines), and reciting the recorded incantation would draw the appropriate magic circle around the witch or wizard, which would _then _activate the spell.

Too much work and too flashy (unless you're trolling some unsuspecting souls), so Valeria wasn't all that interested in it either. It was the same with her father's runic circles—too much work rewriting and drawing the mechanics of the spell within a circle and calculating the correct placement of runes and such, when a simple incantation and flick of the wrist would have the same results.

While she was well aware that the intricacies and particulars of the different focus tools were useful in their own aspects, she had faith in her ability to blow things up with a magic stick or cuff like the other eleven-year-old brats—and mostly didn't really care to get into the details of how a grimoire erases the necessity for many of the steps put in place for wandwork, or how exactly a choker takes little to no magic power in comparison to wizarding Britain's beloved twigs.

Anyhow, like Valeria said, she thought a magical cuff was better than a wand simply because it was attached to a wizard or witch at all times, and thus easier to call on and harder to misplace. Initially, she thought that wizards had gotten all huffy about wearing 'jewellery' and witches had found the grimoires stupidly complex and flashy, and thus they'd all just agreed on wands as their medium. That's what Valeria had thought.

She _thought _that was all there was to it.

Until she walked into _Ollivander's _for the first time and discovered this new facet to wands.

The hypersensitive little witch (not that she was aware of this) had to wonder at how she hadn't picked up on this whenever her father, Snape, or any of the other magical folk she came in contact with drew their wands. She hadn't noticed _anything _at all. From what she could tell with her senses they'd just been glorified sticks_. _

Whatever the case, the wands in those thin little boxes were most certainly more than that.

The mini-adult could _feel _the magic thrumming through every single wand in the shop, the nuances of each creating a symphony of which Valeria had never experienced the like. Each one differed from the other in ways that should not have complement the other—in flavour, aroma, note, colour, texture—and yet, they did.

Splashes of vermillion, cobalt, jade across a bone white canvas, arcing sweeps of roaring tides crashing against one another in indigo, teal, carmine, jasper, ochre; gentle beats of feathery wings painting in watery, rose tinted colours. Sharp tangs of ocean brine and citrus, earthy dirt and green moss carried away on a breeze of jasmine, sweet peas, and fresh laundry, undertones of musk and the sweet scent of fur tickling the senses. A flaky pie baking in the oven giving off a buttery aroma mixed with several different fruits: peach, apple, rhubarb, blueberry, pumpkin, cherry, raspberry, strawberry; a cauldron of stew simmered over a crackling, smoky fire; bitter artichokes and olives; earthy mushrooms, potatoes, turnips; milky chocolate, hard caramel candies, sour blue lollipops, and sweet, _sweet_ maple syrup.

The uppity, rich sound of a trumpet battling it out with a sax could be heard, clarinets and flutes and drums and guitars and oboes and trombones joining in an exquisite sonata. Electric guitars and heavy drums screamed together in an overload of sound as a gentle piano piece quietly played itself out. The cries of birds, squeaks of mice, and howls of lone wolves called out as a high tenor voice sang to nary a soul. Rough, coarse sand between fingers, soft velvet, slippery silk. Cool stone, warm blankets, freezing snow, and piping hot lava.

Or, at least...

That's how it began to feel like for Valeria. She had always wondered how some people could taste music, or see sound. In her past life, she remembered reading an article about a girl who could taste, hear, smell, and feel colours, and couldn't for the life of her imagine being able to experience that kind of sensory perception.

Now she had an idea of what it was like.

Valeria leaned on her obstinate brother, careful of the Valerians on her shoulders, and touched a hand beneath her nose. It came away red.

Really, it was a wonder Valeria hadn't felt this before. Wands were alive for Pete's sake! Well, they weren't _alive _alive, as in they didn't have what one might consider a soul or sentience. But they had that something, that spark_, _that none of the other focus tools had. It used to seem a little strange that wands would portray quirks in... personality and display behavioural traits in the books when they had clearly just been hyped up sticks with something magical stuffed inside; now it made perfect sense. Valeria had to marvel at wandmakers—Mr. Ollivander in particular—for bringing these twigs to life, and question how exactly they did so.

But that was a venture for another time.

The Crabbe girl sighed and looked with longing out the door. To be frank, escaping the sensory overload that was _Ollivander's _wasn't the only reason she had immediately stepped out of the shop. Besides the entirely scary realization that those sticks were... well, _freaking alive_, she'd been looking forward to this magical milestone with not a little unease. Don't get her wrong, the Crabbe was very much excited to blow things up with her soon to be wand. It was that she feared no wand would bond with her, it was also another marker that heralded the coming of Plot—

Valeria cursed.

—and she had vivid memories of Mr. Ollivander himself being frighteningly perceptive. As in, Yoda perceptive, or Gandalf—though Valeria was more inclined to attach that comparison to Dumbledore because, well, beards. She couldn't help but think that he might see through her eleven-year-old body and spot the nineteen-year-old girl that had died over a decade ago. It was an alarming prospect, simply because she had buried that girl so deep in her pendant and behind Valeria Irma Crabbe, it would be too painful to _be _her again. To have someone look at her and see her as Valerie Brennan too. To have someone listen to her talk about Valerie Brennan and _believe _that that girl really did exist once too.

Valeria knew, she knew how contradictory it was to hide who she really was and talk about it with her friend and enemy. She saw the paradox in burying _her _and simultaneously drowning herself in old memories. She _knew_. But this was different.

The Crabbe touched her blossom pendant.

A thought struck her.

Or rather, slapped her upside the head with a murderous Nundu.

_'What if Ollivander practices Legume?' _

A very frightening prospect indeed. If the old wandmaker did in fact practice the all-powerful vegetable mind talent—and looking back in her memories really made it seem like he _did_—then he stood a high chance of uncovering her secrets.

Which would _not _do because:

A: It would throw suspicion on her, and thus drag her into the Plot.

(Valeria cursed.)

B: Whatever foreknowledge he gleans from her would screw with the Plot.

(Valeria cursed again.)

C: He might try and convince her to meddle with the Plot.

(Valeria bit her tongue while cursing, and was pretty sure the appendage was bleeding.)

D: It made her highly uncomfortable having her mind invaded.

And E: He might uncover her half-formed plans to become a 'god' in the muggle realm and altogether fuck with everyone's minds.

...That last part might not be conducive for her plans to stay out of Azkaban anyways, but a girl could dream.

_'Why hadn't I tried my hand at Occultmancy? Snape may have stopped infiltrating my mind and Dumbledore may not show interest in a random Hufflepuff, but they're obviously not the only Legumetist, or whatever they're called. Stupid girl!'_

Though in her defense, she hadn't encountered mind magic at all besides vague mentions in the countless books she devoured with much enthusiasm. It was possible it wasn't a well-known art in the wizarding realm, or it might have been something taught through families or apprenticeships. It seemed like the sort of thing that could only be learned through practice and experience anyhow.

Valeria silently vowed to learn Occultmancy. She needed to find some books for it when she went to get her school textbooks, along with some Latin language books she needed to refresh her memory, and of course the books on artificial life and intelligence. Might as well add a bit of wandlore in her purchases for light reading and to sate her curiosity.

_Jesus, what was she, a Granger?_

"Your Grace," Noon whispered loudly, eyeing Vinnie warily. "Your face is _leaking._"

"Just a nosebleed," she muttered to him.

"Are you ill?" Commander Doo asked sharply. "Has the room offended your most holy nostrils?"

The Guard collectively glared at their surroundings, and Braheed waved his axe around as if to threaten the space around them. Doo tapped her MMD, a steady beat in the stillness of _Ollivander's_.

_Tap._

Vinnie stared at nothing in particular and scratched at his nose.

_Tap._

The Second murmured to herself, the words too soft for the reincarnation to pick up.

_Tap._

"Did anyone ring the bell?" Valeria asked the room, desperately wanting to rub her forehead.

_Tap._

"…No," the Second replied quietly. "Valeria, I—"

_Tap._

A sharp intake of breath and a hiss from Noon, "_Respect! _You can't speak so in—"

_Tap._

_"—_formally to Her Holiness!"

"Quiet, Third," the Second hissed. "This is none of your—"

_Tap._

"Not now, Second," Doo interrupted them blandly. "You too, Noon."

_Tap._

Valeria winced at the pain in her head and on her tongue, cursing Doo's tapping to high heaven, "What are you guys talking about?"

_Tap._

"Nothing, your Crabbiness," Doo ceased her infernal tapping. "It is not of dire importance."

The second in command hissed violently in what was obviously disagreement, but held her wooden tongue, fuming all the while. Valeria did not bother pondering this. The behaviour of the Stoics was erratic at best, and she and her headache could not keep up with their ever changing disposition—and wasn't that ironic? They acted like everything except the 'Stoics' they claim to be.

Maybe it was just a bad day for them.

The reincarnation ambled over to the counter and slammed her hand irately on the little bell, muttering, "Let's get this bloody thing over with before I start self-medicating with excessive violence."

Or something along those lines. She might have referenced a Malfoy or two.

Predictably, Ollivander appeared in a mysterious and altogether 'crap-your-pants-where-did-this-guy-pop-out-from' sort of fashion. And, predictably, Valeria jumped, being the skittish paranoid person that she was (she _was _her father's daughter, after all) while Vinnie stood there completely unfazed (he was his mother's son, enough said). This, of course, jiggled the Valerians around and the subsequent pulling of her hair combined with a sensory-induced migraine made her head feel like it was splitting open.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

"Fresh Hogwarts students who've come to purchase wands, like every other eleven-year-old brat you doubtless get every year. Do you say the same line _every single time?_"

Wow, did Valeria have a mouth on her. What was with her and wizards that scared the bejeezus out of—_was this a defense mechanism?_ By god, that has got to be the most useless defense to develop. A lot of good that would do her if she ever finds herself in front of Moldy Shorts. He'd probably kill her slowly the second a nose jab slipped past her lips.

A harsh tug at the reincarnation's hair from the second in command pulled her out of her thoughts, and Valeria found Ollivander waiting for a response. Fixing her gaze on his large nose instead of his eyes, she rudely ignored whatever question he might have asked.

"Yeah, you could just go ahead and start with Vinnie."

The Crabbe girl could tell the wandmaker was mildly frustrated with her blatant insolence despite his seemingly unflappable appearance, but he nevertheless turned to Vinnie and waved his wand at the large boy. Evidently the old man realized Valeria was not in the mood for any bullshit today, and had forgone any advertising for his wands or claims that they're 'the best wandmakers in the wizarding world'—which was true, and he knew the Crabbes knew it as well.

A measuring tape withdrew itself from his robe and began measuring the size of Vinnie's nostrils.

"He's right handed," Valeria supplied without prompt, already guessing at his question. Ollivander raised his hairy white brows but continued nevertheless.

He pulled out a wand from one of the shelves, holding it out with a flourish in his pale fingers. "Maple. Dragon Heartstring. Eight inches. Give it a swish."

Valeria and the Guard quietly observed the attempts at finding a wand for Vinnie, who was actually quite excited about getting a wand of his own, to no one's surprise. Valeria was observing Ollivander's mannerisms and attempting to pinpoint a trend between the tape measurements, what she already knew of wand lore, and his choice of wands… and obviously finding none—_how in the hell did the distance between Vinnie's nostrils correlate with a seven inch pine wand with dragon heartstring?_—and the Valerians were scrutinizing the proceedings with obvious distaste and trepidation.

"Commander," Noon leaned over, tone oddly serious. "This is—"

"I know," Doo whispered back, burgundy marbles watching quietly. "This changes things. With magic at the child god's disposal, he could easily take back the Playroom and slaughter the Cast—the Cast is what we call the Valerians collectively, after a cast of crabs, Your Holiness," the Commander automatically answering Valeria's inevitable question.

Valeria grunted in response.

Was it some Arithmancy thing? A form of bullshit? Does it make it look more official and science-y? Was he just enchanting the measuring tape for shits and giggles?

The girl could feel her self-control crumbling.

"So, Ollie," Valeria began pretentiously, and by god has she become such a snob. "How exactly do you choose wands by measuring the distance between my brother's breasts and his crotch?"

"Choice words, Miss Crabbe," the old man reprimanded softly while continuing to scan the shelves for a particular wand.

"He does have breasts though—no offense, Vinnie," Valeria replied blandly, eyeing the measuring tape whirling around the boy. "But seriously, _how?"_

"Magic has a peculiar relationship with the Divine Proportion, Miss Crabbe," Ollivander responded amusedly, stopping for a moment to shoot her an inscrutable glance to which Valeria studiously ignored. "I find a wand is much more receptive to a prospective witch or wizard when it measures out."

"The Divine Proportion?" Was that another ridiculous magic thing, like the enigmatic number seven?

The Second shifted uncomfortably on her perch when Ollivander stopped to pierce Valeria with another look, obviously trying to initiate eye contact—which Valeria wasn't going to let happen if the old man served her up to Lupin on a full moon.

"The Divine Proportion, Miss Crabbe, is a ratio that appears often in nature and several branches of magic," the wandmaker turned back to the shelf carefully selecting a thin box, and Valeria instantly hated him referring to her with Ms. Crabbe's name. "Applewood. Unicorn hair. Six inches. A flick, if you please—now, the Divine Proportion can be found if one were to divide a length in two unequal parts, in that the longer part divided by the shorter part is equal to the whole length divided by the longer part—no, no, that simply won't do, return the wand please, Mr. Crabbe. Ah, where were we?

"In simple terms, the Divine Proportion is equal to the number 1.618, the decimals continuing with no inherent pattern. An irrational number, if you will. The most successful witches and wizards employ the Divine Proportion in their work, most notably in the runic arts, warding, spellcrafting, spellwork, and even Divination. Some magical and muggle architects and artists even believe the ratio makes the most beautiful shape, the _absolute_ most pleasing to the eye. Take the Parthenon, or a balanced pentagram for example. One, a well-known site in both realms, and the other a powerful, magical trapping symbol. They both employ the Divine Proportion in their structure. Arithmancers postulate that magic aligns itself with the Divine Proportion for these reasons."

Valeria blinked.

"So basically, magic has a particularly intense fetish for a mathematical proportion," she replied dryly, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because it makes pretty shapes."

"Not in so many words, but yes," Ollivander replied breezily. "Magic is known to be quite irrational. Why not an irrational mathematical relationship for an irrational reason?"

She snorted.

"That is why _Ollivander's_ wandmakers had utilized the Proportion to find measurements that might match up in a prospective wand," the old man continued. "It did not always work, but it certainly helped along the process."

The girl narrowed her eyes at the geriatric wandmaker's nose.

_'That doesn't make any sense.'_

Valeria thought she smelled bullshit.

_'Why stop in searching for a wand for a longwinded, unnecessary explanation? Why use the length of a yet to be fully grown body to find something as long term as a wand? And why say they _had _used the Proportion if they still use it? Come to think of it, I remember Alice gushing about the _Harry Potter _series wands and how the length had something to do with their 'character'. And…'_

Ollivander did not even pay any attention to the now-still tape. Had not even bothered to note down the measurements.

Yes, Valeria smelled bullshit.

The wandmaker selected another wand from the shelves, handed it to Vinnie, and subsequently drove a metaphorical ice pick through Valeria's skull when the boy waved the wand. Green sparks flew and Ollivander smiled triumphantly. "Chestnut, dragon heartstring, seven inches. Unyielding. Very good, Mr. Crabbe."

"I take it the wand's bonded to him?" Valeria winced and resisted rubbing her temples lest the Guard fall off her shoulders. How in the blazing hell did none of them feel that? He might as well have shoved that wand into her eye.

"Indeed. It took some time, but I've seen more difficult matches."

Valeria examined Vinnie's wand curiously. She could taste steak and Yorkshire pudding, smell pumpkin pasties, feel the snap of something breaking in her hands, and hear a strange, high pitched chatter. It was… a voice, yes, and it sounded rather obnoxious. A constant stream of white noise, tone matter of fact, with the occasional drip of sarcasm. A sharp, rather annoying—

Oh.

It was her voice.

"Oh, Vinnie," she sighed. The chatter was always blurred, the words themselves indecipherable.

Meaning he never actually listened to her.

_'Wait… How is that even possible? Why is it that the one wand that chose my brother would be all of his favourite things? Or did it simply choose a master that reflects its song, or whatever this is. Or did _it_ reflect _Vinnie's _song-thing…? This… the relationship between a wand and its master is even more profound than wandlore led me to believe. Alice was right, in more ways than one. Wands had _everything _to do with character.'_

And nothing to do with some stupid fetish magic had with maths. Why would this asshole wandmaker bother bullshitting his method? Why even bother bullshitting an eleven-year-old kid?

It hit Valeria like a ton of bricks.

Why he would lie.

Why he would fake his method.

Why he would desperately try to initiate eye contact with her.

"I believe it is your turn to find a wand, Miss Crabbe," the wandmaker said jovially, turning to her after wrapping Vinnie's new wand up in its box.

He realized wand matching had everything to do with _character _and nothing to do with the Divine Proportion. And the best way to quickly measure a stranger's character…

_'Oh, screw you.'_

This bastard had been illegally using Legume on eleven-year-old children for decades!

The reincarnation was never going to let him invade her mind.

"It would be best if your _illegal_ artificial intelligence were removed from your shoulders, Miss Crabbe," Ollivander pointedly said, a smile tugging at his lips. "It is _imperative_ the tape is unhindered for accurate measurements."

…Touché.

The Crabbe blinked innocently at the old man's nose. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir. My toys are perfectly legal."

"I'm sure. Nevertheless, they must be removed."

The man was sharp, Valeria would give him that.

"Your Holiness," Commander Doo spoke up plainly. "We will vacate your most wondrous shoulders for your convenience."

"Knock that old god down, Your Grace!" Braheed grinned in a confident and cool manner, and slid off her shoulder, using his axe to slow his fall into her pocket and ripping a line through her thin cloak all the way down.

"Wow, thanks." _You asshole, I liked this cloak._

With a silent pat, the Second stepped off Valeria's shoulder, simultaneously unleashing the MMD cords and whipping out of sight into her pocket. Noon sputtered something about honour and whatnot and did the same. The other two Valerians, Dragoon and Poe-shin—Valeria still couldn't tell which was which—laboriously climbed down the folds of her robes, evidently denied the Noon Express. Commander Doo tapped her magical maneuverability device one last time.

"This was enjoyable, Your Crabbiness," the toy soldier said quietly.

"Anytime, Doo."

Ollivander flicked his wand after the toy catapulted into her pocket, and the measuring tape went about its redundant business. The Crabbe girl fidgeted uncomfortably while the tape whirled around her. Vinnie's silent presence and the jostling of Valerians in her pocket calmed her some, but the headache still insisted on making itself known. Unsurprisingly, the wandmaker paid no attention to the measuring tape and began pulling wands out from their shelves. He settled on one, pulled it out of its box, and presented it to her handle first with a flourish.

The wand was light brown in colour, medium sized, with an intricately carved handle. To Valeria's magical senses, she could smell frankincense and earth permeating the air, taste rose water and flowers on her tongue, and feel rough bark and soft grass beneath her fingertips. The magic in the wand painted a picture of sprawling green, vibrant blue, and dashes of colour everywhere in between. A familiar piano piece rang in her ears, the name teasing the edges of her memory.

"Beechwood. Unicorn hair. Ten inches."

Valeria grasped the handle of the wand and her senses tuned in to it, the sensations increasing tenfold. A rather strange experience indeed, as she could physically feel the carved handle underneath her palm while her magic told her she was brushing her hand against grass and raw bark. The song blared and Valeria noted with detached amusement that the wand was playing a relaxing piano rendition of _Pocahontas' _"Colors of the Wind".

"Give it a wave, Miss Crabbe."

She did.

Nothing happened.

Before the girl could even deflate with disappointment, Ollivander had snatched the wand from her hand and whipped out another.

"Try this, a sycamore wand with dragon heartstring, nine inches."

A wand with a rather raunchy tune was shoved in her face, smelling distinctly of fresh air and dirt. Flashes of colour splattered together in a mishmash of a rushed paint job, and oh, ew, she could taste gasoline. The girl grabbed the wand and gave it a flick. Nothing happened. It was swiftly taken from her.

"Ebony, phoenix feather, fourteen inches, inflexible. Rather handsome wand, if I say so myself."

Valeria grabbed the jet-black wand. It smelled of mildew and a burning candle, felt like parchment and the turning pages of a muggle book. The taste of toffees and a picture of soft pencil crayons felt rather distinct to her. She was pleased to hear a violin piece strumming in her ear. This must be it.

But it wasn't.

"No, no, no," Ollivander muttered, sounding very happy with her predicament as he practically wrenched the wand from her fingers. "I must say, I'm always pleased to see a Crabbe in my shop. Always difficult to place a wand with your family."

That did little to soothe the knot in her stomach.

_'I don't belong here. I should be dead. I know it. The wands probably do too.'_

They continued on in such a fashion, Valeria waving wands around like a madwoman and Ollivander prying her fingers from them with increasing glee. Tart apples, crunchy cashews, sweet strawberries, cheesy chips, warm pies, hearty steak meals, and a flavour that was distinctly like a matcha green tea Frappuccino were taken from her before she could venture a bite. The sounds of instrumentals, nature, whistling birds, punk rock, tinkling streams, and rich voices quieted down before she could begin to appreciate them. Stroke upon stroke of colour, beautiful shapes, oil paint, acrylic paint, crayons, charcoal, and pencil crayons, all darkened into an unseeable abyss before she could take it all in. A myriad of smells assaulted her nose, ones she could not identify before they too were gone.

And with every wand taken away from her, she could feel the abyss growing bigger and deeper. The boxes piled up on the counter, the number of which Valeria had already lost count. Vinnie was snoring away on the stool and the toys in her pockets were still.

It might have been her mid-twentieth wand when something finally happened. Ollivander told her the specifics of the wand, but she ceased listening by then. It was a vain hope. The wand was of a dark grey hue, straight, and a little on the short end. It smelled, sounded, and was as hot as a busy kitchen, bright warm hues painted in various browns. Valeria's hand grazed the wood and it violently burst in red sparks. It burned the palm of her hand, singing the skin to an angry red. The girl yelped and jumped back, blowing on the appendage.

"Fascinating."

"Don't tell me that wand bonded with me," Valeria asked incredulously. "I mean, something happened. It sparked when I touched it. It bonded with me right?"

Ollivander twirled the wand in his hands, truly captivated with the reaction between wand and witch. "I will admit never to have seen something like this before. It is possible, but very, very rare."

"What? What is it?" The Crabbe girl pressed.

"This wand has completely and utterly rejected you."

The reincarnation's jaw dropped. "You're joking! How? Why?"

"I can only speculate, really," the old man replied contemplatively. "Black walnut wands are known to seek masters in the powerfully insightful and those with good instincts, its only oddity in that it is highly attuned to inner conflict and self-deception."

"So what. I'm not insightful enough for it?" Valeria glared accusingly at the grey wand.

"No, I'd rather say it was absolutely repulsed by your dishonesty with yourself," Ollivander corrected. "As I said, they're quite attuned with inner conflict and self-deception, especially when paired with phoenix feather. It abhors such uncertainty in the soul."

The girl gaped at the old man's nose in anger. She had half a mind to take the offending wand from its maker and shove it where the sun don't shine.

"I can only speculate, of course," the man replied to her silent anger. "Though..."

The man abruptly stopped talking and walked to the back of the room, disappearing behind one of the shelves. He returned a few moments later with a decaying, foul smelling box in his hands and a muted melody obscured by the static of the other wands. Valeria wrinkled her nose and shot the old man's nose a look.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh yes, I am," Ollivander said amusedly. "Forgive the smell, this type of wand fell out of fashion some centuries ago and so it was never picked up. It's quite old, but I believe you have a good chance of bonding with this wand."

"A few centuries ago!" The witch's eyes bugged out. "Is it even still alive?"

Ollivander was silent for a moment before quickly removing the wand from its box. "Yes, of course. Hawthorn, dragon heartstring, sixteen inches. Rather springy, considering its age. Give it a go."

Valeria's eyes widened further at the old wand. She did not want to touch it. Sixteen inches was abnormally large for a wand, most being between nine and fourteen inches. Valeria did not delude herself into thinking Ollivander thought she had 'a lot of character'. Almost half of the length was the handle. It was big, disproportioned, and looked like it would suit hands the size of Hagrid than any eleven-year-old child's. No wonder it fell out of fashion, her own father would have trouble handling it.

The wood was a pale brown, gnarled and twisted as though it had been picked off of any old tree. It looked like it could crumble at the slightest of touches.

That was not why she did not want to touch it.

The reincarnation could feel dog fur from the wand. She could smell its sweet scent.

Tears pricked at her eyes.

It was _her _dog's fur.

It was her little Snookum's.

Valeria could taste her Uncle Gabriel's famous chocolate dipped churros, maple syrup, and Marion's mother's _kofta. _She could smell her sister's stupid candy perfume, leather, fresh books, her dog's fur, and a scent that was home in another life. Blurred, faint colours of pink, grey, asphalt, and green that she knew was a distorted image of her old home stretched across the vision of her magical eye. Reds, golds, oranges, browns, greens, blues—colours of a Canadian autumn down by the local lake danced in front of her. Her fingers carded through her younger sister's wild hair and her dog's fur as the worn sweaters she always stole from her older sisters draped around her.

This was her wand.

The song the old wand was singing was still muted, indistinct. She thought she might cry.

_But it was her wand._

Ollivander said something. She didn't catch it.

Valeria didn't want to touch the wand.

_But she wanted to._

The girl gulped and reached out a shaky hand, the burn forgotten, and wrapped her hand around the bulky handle. Her fingers squeezed her sister Alice's hand. She stared, mesmerized, at her baby sister's big doe eyes gazing right back into her own through the bars of her crib. The scent of her aunt and mother's embrace filled the air, a coat of comfort. The blaring static succumbed to the quiet melody of the piano, the tune sedate, melancholic, and gentle. It filled her ears, the notes that only she could hear and the only thing she _could _hear.

The wand felt awkward in her hand, unbalanced. The handle was lighter and it tilted out of her hand by a significant degree. When she waved it, sparks flew, a _zing _traveled up her arm and through her entire body, her headache melted away and…

Valeria couldn't feel anything anymore.

Not a thing from the other wands.

Not a peep from her own.

_Oh._

"Your Grace," Noon stage whispered from her pocket. "Your face is leaking again."

The Crabbe girl sniffled. "Yeah."

"Your Grace, it's coming from your _eye_ _marbles_!"

"Really. I didn't notice."

The girl rubbed furiously at her cheeks and her eyes.

"I believe Ms. Crabbe has found her wand," Ollivander stated the obvious and was well received by the Guard with exuberant cheers.

_'Stoic, my ass.'_

The reincarnation fiddled with the unwieldy stick. She's supposed to be able to nimbly draw and aim it in a matter of seconds. That was not going to happen, not with this wand.

Especially when she was afraid it'd snap in half.

"What made you think this wand would bond with me?"

Ollivander, soulless man that he was, cruelly snatched it from her fingers and proceeded to wrap it up in its box. "Hawthorn wands are best suited to conflicted folk, or those who are in a time of disquiet."

"But I'm not conflicted or going through a rough time."

Ollivander gave her a look that could roughly translate to a sassy 'mhmm, honey, _sure _you are'. Valeria barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

"Why not any other hawthorn wand. Why this one?"

"The black walnut wand rejected you rather soundly," Ollivander said with glee, the little shit. "It was by chance that I had been leafing through some of the Ollivander forefathers' notes the night before and happened across a particular… frustration."

"Frustration," the girl deadpanned.

"Yes. The few who had tried your wand were systematically rejected."

That… strangely sounded like a wand that would be hers.

"Of course, they were very pleased they were fortunate enough the wand was repulsed, and thought its design a pain. I inferred you two would make a good match."

"The wand that rejects people and the girl that is rejected? How is that even rational?"

_And wait, was he implying she was a pain?_

"Magic, my dear," Ollivander answered, no doubt breaching some sort of copyright law with the trademark Dumbledore Eye Twinkle. "In itself, it is irrational."

_'Right.'_

The girl grumbled and exchanged the wands for fourteen Galleons. She trudged over to Vinnie, pinched him awake, and they set off onto Diagon Alley.

"They'd be at Flourish and Blotts by now, yeah?" Valeria asked her brother.

Vinnie grunted.

"_Yes_, Doo," Noon's voice pitched in a whine from her pocket. "But _why _is her face always leaking?"

* * *

(V)(° ㇬0 °)(V)

* * *

**Omake!**

**GHEGME**

Omake! 3

**Somewhere, in an alternate future in which Harry and Draco are above the age of fifteen or something….**

They were having another spat.

Well, if you could call them being red-faced and screaming angrily at each other in a maddened rage while their Houses jeered them on from the sidelines a spat. Draco noted somewhere in the back of his mind that usually Potter wouldn't have let himself get so worked up over a few traded insults, barring 'mudblood'. It might have had something to do with the fact that the Dark Lord had risen from the dead, tortured him, and sent him back to Hogwarts with a corpse in his arms. Or perhaps it was that the wizarding world at large did not believe him and had been liberally defaming his name in an attempt to quash his claims. Whatever the case, Draco really couldn't care less about the Gryffindor's anger issues.

What he _really _cared about was...

was ...

it was...

...He couldn't remember what had started their argument. He didn't even think it started with any words, it might have been a simple sneer or glare from across the corridor.

Whatever.

He hated Potty, and that was reason enough.

The muscles in the Malfoy heir's face pulled into their trademark sneer, proof enough of his family name. His pale face was still flushed pink in anger. In turn, Potty's face was an angry red and he looked like he was ready to pull out his wand. It was mildly surprising that they hadn't done so already.

His fellow Slytherins jeered and a couple of Gryffindors shouted back. Granger was whispering furiously into Potty's ear, a restraining hand gripping his arm. Her other hand was hooked into Weasel's robes, effectively leashing him to her. The ginger was glaring murderously at Draco.

"What's wrong, scar head?" The blond spat. "Is little Potty too scared to duel?"

"I'm _not_ scared!" The lion roared back at him.

"Then what are you waiting for," the snake taunted. "Whip it out like a man!"

Before either of them could whip _anything_ out, a familiar high voice pierced the air and stopped them in their tracks.

"Whip out what exactly, Draco?" The smirking figure pushed through the crowd and crossed her arms. "Your willies? Are you and Potter going to whip out your willies? I can't imagine what for. Or rather... I _don't want _to imagine."

Potty glared at the Crabbe girl, and Draco whirled around to splutter at her.

"O-Of course not! This is a duel between _men, _Valeria!"

"_Oh, _I get it," the girl twiddled a bit of stringy hair in her fingers. "This is a _measuring contest_, isn't it? I must say, that is rather... caveman-like of you two. Not that you have much competition, Harry."

The crowed stilled for a moment as they processed what she had just said. Even Potty seemed to forget his anger for a moment as his mouth dropped open and his eyes darted between Draco and Valeria. Granger and Weasel looked equally stunned.

Draco flushed at the double implication.

"I pantsed him once, and saw a bit too much for my liking," she continued nonchalantly, too focused on a strand of hair to notice the people around her slapping their palms to their foreheads. "Wasn't very impressive, to be perfectly—"

"_Valeria!_" Draco hissed indignantly and she looked up from her hair.

"What?" The Crabbe idiot sounded genuinely mystified, convincingly unaware that she insulted... _him _and implied they had... _relations._

"What do you _want?_" The Malfoy glared at Valeria and she rolled her eyes.

"Isn't it obvious?" She eyed the two groups with something akin to exasperation. "I want you two to stop this ridiculous temper tantrum."

"Temper tantrum?" Potty shouted angrily.

"He dissed Slytherin," Draco retorted, or at least ninety percent sure they had. Weasel snorted. Potty turned his glare back to the blond.

"You insulted the Weasley family, threatened to hex me, and called Hermione a _mudblood!_" The-Boy-Who-Lived shouted angrily. His words were punctuated with his friends' glares and Valeria's unimpressed look.

Draco paused.

Had he...? The blond boy could not remember exactly which insults and words he had exchanged with the Golden Trio. He was struggling to remember, despite it being only ten minutes since the fight began. Could you blame him? They've had so many spats he was having trouble differentiating between them. The Malfoy probably did say those things. It sounded like him.

_And_ the mudblood comment would certainly explain the hissy fit.

"Calling you a slimy Slytherin is hardly anything compared to what you've said," Harry—sorry, _Potty _continued, green eyes narrowed dangerously. More students stopped to watch. He spotted the Weaslette and Looney Lovegood.

Draco was about to spit something back, when he remembered a conversation from years past, a conversation that felt like a lifetime ago. He remembered a disturbing scene of a legion of toys intent on beheading his friends, a peculiar portrait, and a flipping chess board. He didn't exactly remember any conversations per say, but rather snippets whispering from the recesses of his childhood in no particular order.

_"But I can't be! Anywhere but that House!"_

_"I do?" _

_"If you're anything, you're a Slytherin, not a Hufflepuff! Merlin's beard, you're more of a lion than a badger!"_

_"Not to worry. You're also clever, determined, and resourceful. You fit the traits for Slytherin rather well."_

_"Uh, no. No, no, no,"_

_"...Gag me?"_

_"...Ah, and that would be?"_

_"It would appear that we are at an impasse."_

_"...Gag me?"_

_"The Greatest House Ever to Grace the Magical Earth."_

_"In whatever test they give us for the Sorting, just aim for the GHEGME."_

_"I'd find a different acronym for your House, Draco. 'Gag me' is practically begging for it!"_

Right. He was about to spit out something along those lines, but remembering the two reactions he got for his acronym made the blond pause and fish around for another way to say GHEGME. What if... how about like... as in... 'rough', or 'tough'...

"GHEGME, Potty," Draco corrected triumphantly. "That's GHEGME to you."

Silence.

Not a single breath was taken.

Someone dropped a book.

Hushed whispers broke out.

"... What did he..."

"... Hear that..."

"... 'Feg me'...right?"

"... Sounded like..."

"... Actually say that?!"

"... Wants him, probably..."

"... Never would have..."

Draco's smirk quickly turned into a frown as the faces of the students around him gaped at him in shock. Weasel in particular was sporting an impressive cesspit with how far his jaw dropped. Granger looked as though she had been struck with an epiphany, and Potty was utterly frozen. A quick glance at Valeria revealed the most amused look he had seen on her face since he had been unfortunately turned into a rodent. Which told him this was _entirely_ at his expense. Did he say something wrong? Didn't they get it?

"GHEGME," he repeated a tad warily, sounding out the pronunciation deliberately as 'fegme'... 'feg me'...

...

...

... Wait a minute.

Draco's oath was lost amongst the cacophony of shouts between the Gryffindors, Slytherins, and other Hogwarts students. Weasel looked green, his younger sister appraised Draco with a contemplative look, Looney smiled dreamily, Granger was looking at him with something akin to pity, and Valeria's face seemed like it was going to crack under the force of her grin. The Gryffindors were of a mixed sort, some still sporting gaping mouths, others angry, and a few snickering and blushing. His fellow Slytherins were sending him sharp looks and glares. Quite a number of the girls (and a few boys) were blushing furiously, some looking embarrassed and others crushed.

Draco had to do a double take at Vincent's reaction.

_'Why in Merlin's name does he have such a defeated face?!'_

He wasn't altogether surprised with Pansy's despair and subsequent tears, but now he supposed he had to re-evaluate every single interaction he's ever had with the Crabbe boy.

A quick glance at Potty informed him that the boy appeared unnaturally pale. Whether by shock or anger, Malfoy could not tell.

Zabini sneered at the Malfoy heir, "You want Harry Potter to _fuck you_, is that right, Malfoy?"

"Of course not," Draco instantly denied, and decided the other pronunciation would be much better. "I meant GHEGME."

The entire crowd recoiled and screamed in unison, "_Gag you?!_"

Well, Potty choked on his scream, Looney kept smiling dreamily, and Pansy and some other girls—for some reason or another—started one of the harshest cat fights Draco has ever seen. But besides them, it was one of the most cooperative actions Slytherins and Gryffindors had ever taken.

Draco started to panic. He didn't know if it was the accusing looks, the way Granger was nodding knowingly, or that look in the Weaslette's eyes that made a shiver run up his spine; but he did something that he will forever regret for the rest of his life.

He turned to Valeria for help.

"That's not what I meant! I was talking about—" He stopped and attempted to raise his voice over the mob and look at the Crabbe girl. "Valeria! Tell them! You remember, don't you? The GHEGME?"

Heads swivelled to stare at the raven-haired girl, who was shoving her way to Draco's side. He caught a flash of something in her calculating eyes, before it melted away into a piercing, soulful look. She took an exaggerated step forward and hesitantly laid her hand on his shoulder. Her brows furrowed in sympathetic grief and the corners of her lips tugged downwards in a frown.

"It's okay, Draco," she whispered, then spoke louder for the benefit of the student mob. "It's okay! You don't have to hide anymore. You're safe, here, with us."

_What._

"I know how long this has hurt you. I know what it's done to you—but it's okay. _You're _okay_. _You can let it out now. You can let it go, Draco. Let it _go_."

And there, on her face and in her eyes, he could see it. It was barely noticeable in the angle of her head, the imperceptible twitch of her lips, the quiet glimmer of amusement hidden in her eyes. A small smile stretched across her cheeks that one might possibly construe as gentle, but not Draco. He could see the condescending grin there as she spoke the only words that were _actually _applicable to his predicament.

"The truth will set you free," she said firmly, and only the Malfoy boy could hear the small _pfft _that escaped her in a barely contained breath of laughter.

Valeria was _laughing _at him.

_Bloody hell._

"It's true!" Valeria shouted as she turned to face the mob, her back straightened and arms outstretched as if to embrace the crowd.

_A performer's stance._

"Draco Malfoy is in love with Harry Potter!" The girl declared.

"What—No. That doesn't make any sense," the mudblood Dean Thomas protested, and Lavender Brown nodded vigorously. "Malfoy _hates _Harry. Always has."

"Is this a joke?" Weasel glared at the Crabbe and Malfoy pair. "Are you making fun of Harry?"

"One in poor taste," the quiet, cold voice of Daphne Greengrass chimed in. The icy blue stare of the Slytherin of few words rested heavily on them.

"No, it makes sense."

The crowd gasped and turned as one towards the unexpected voice. Potty's face was stricken with betrayal as he stared at Granger's frowning face. She stared back apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but it makes total sense," Granger, _that stupid mudblood_, claimed.

"How?" Draco and Valeria yelped, and the horde of students nodded in agreement.

The blond shot the Crabbe girl the most venomous look ever to grace his face. "_You're _the idiot who started this."

"I _know_, and it's turning out better than I ever hoped!" She whispered gleefully into his ear. He stomped on her foot and she elbowed him in the ribs.

"I think he really is in love with you, Harry," Granger continued. "Since first year, he's been trying to get close to you."

"_How?" _This time, Potty, Weasel, and Draco were crying out in unison. Valeria had a hand on her chin and was nodding along, absolutely riveted.

"Don't you remember back on the train in first year? How he sought you out and tried to be your friend?"

"He wasn't trying to be my friend!" Potty denied vehemently and Draco nodded vigorously. "He wanted to use me for my fame!"

"Yes, ye—" Draco was rudely interrupted by Valeria's finger pushing against his mouth.

"Shhhhhh," she whispered. "It's getting interesting."

"Maybe he was then, yes, but ever since you rejected him on the train, he's been trying to get your attention," Granger explained. "Antagonizing you, picking fights, _following _you around the _school_. I don't think he knows how to make friends. And you rejected him, Harry! The only way you'd ever give him the time of day was if he made you angry!"

"Huh," Valeria muttered. "Well, aren't you just a dysfunctional, little cupcake?"

She pinched his lips together when he tried to protest, his face flushed pink in embarrassment.

"But," Potty stammered. "That doesn't mean he's in love with me, 'Mione."

She shook her head. "For years, Harry. He's been doing this for five years! He's absolutely _obsessed _with you, don't you see? He's like the playground bully that always picks on the one he likes."

"Yeah," Valeria's voice rose in agreement. "If Harry had pigtails, Draco would be yanking on them."

The mob made a collective _oh _sound, their faces mirroring each other's look of dawning realization. Draco gaped.

"Don't tell me you actually believe this crock!" Draco yelled at them all. "I don't even like boys!"

"What, really?" Valeria spun around on him, her hand flying to her mouth, eyes wide. "Oh _no, _poor Vinnie."

At the same moment, a pained, animalistic cry tore through the air and Vincent Crabbe bowled over the other students in his mad dash away from the crowd.

"He did go and make a bunch of those buttons for Potter during the Triwizard tournament," Seamus Finnigan addressed the crowd. "Hundreds of 'em."

The crowd murmured.

"We never actually talked about this," Valeria began, frowning at Draco. "You know, it's perfectly okay for boys to like boys, romantically."

"I know _that!"_

"Didn't you just make a scene about him being in love with Harry," Theodore Nott said quietly, eyeing them suspiciously as he dodged a Slytherin fourth year being viciously thrown to the ground. Pansy Parkinson stood over the boy, breathing heavily.

_"Mine," _she hissed.

"It's not as if he _talks _about this kind of stuff with me," Valeria looked affronted, playing it up. "Mind your own business, Nott."

The fifth year boy snorted and looked away.

"As I was saying," the Crabbe girl continued.

"And he followed us on the grounds, Harry!" Weasel looked at Potty wide-eyed. "Spying on us through the window of Hagrid's hut when he had Norbert. Spying on you!"

Draco's head spun.

"My eldest sister was gay, you know," Valeria blathered on. "And I was a-o-kay with that. I won't look at you any differently because of your choice in partners."

"You don't have a sister," he spat.

"That you know of."

"I think Draco being in love Harry is nice," Looney Lovegood piped up dreamily.

"I think he actually _is_ in love with you, Harry," Weasel said in a dazed, horrified voice. Granger nodded.

"He is."

"So all this time," one of the Patil twins shouted. "He just wanted Harry to notice him."

"That's kind of sweet."

"That's kind of _cute_."

"Cuuuuupcaaaaake," Valeria whispered in Draco's ear.

"And kind of sad."

"Dysfunctional pastry," the Crabbe girl's voice dropped in a deep, serious voice.

Mocking him.

The Malfoy heir's gaze darted from student to student in a panic. His eyes locked with the Weaslette's. She stared deeply into his eyes. Her eyes darted to Harry. Then back to him. Back to Harry. Then they finally rested on Draco.

Slowly, she bit her lip and dragged her teeth over it.

And winked.

For some inexplicable reason, Draco was arrested with the sudden sensation of being trapped in the sights of a tiger.

Tigress.

_'Oh Merlin.'_

"This, Draco," Valeria snickered and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him tightly to her. They gazed at the chaotic crowd together as they confirmed Draco's undying love for Potty with each other.

"This is great."

He turned his head to stare at her.

"Because, see, every time you try to pick a fight, call him names, or even look at the Boy-Who-Lived… They will always think you're trying to get in his pants."

She gave him a shit-eating grin.

_'…Shit.'_

* * *

(V)(° ㇬0 °)(V)

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A/N: And there ya go! Some of my headcanon wandlore (some is canon), Valerian characters and culture, a funny omake, and plot progression!

That is not the entirety of my headcanon on wandlore, so if you have questions about that go ahead and ask, because it will never be answered in-story.

Valeria's wand's song is Mad World cover by Marius Furche, you can find it on my blog.

FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT THIS CHAPTER IS CUT IN HALF! The trip is not over.

**!IMPORTANT!** I made a blog on tumblr where I will be posting information on the visual novel, updates on the fanfiction, fan art, and little tidbits. **If you have any questions you want answered** then ask me on my blog, cause I will get back to you **much quicker** on there. I would prefer it, because I **HATE **the PM system on this site ( I will still answer your reviews on here, but it'll take a month or two). Just send me an ask or a message on Tumblr.

The URL is pretendfiction . tumblr . com, and is also on my profile.

**Guest reviews:**

Cap'nSmurfy: Thanks for pointing that out! I just looked it up though, and all I see is a mention of the picture of Penelope hiding because of the dripped tea. It doesn't mention her being able to speak or hold intelligent conversation, which was the point of the debate.

Marie: Thanks!

Random Lurker: Thanks so much! Your review was fantastic, made me smile:) . Viva la Valeria!

Anber: Thanks, hope you enjoyed this chapter :D

MissWhizz: Why thank you :3 Glad I made your day. Everyone is mentioning Charlie/Valeria, even the people that ship Draco (though they're more like, "please don't do it).

Guest: So funny you can't laugh? Like when you're laughing so hard no sound comes out? Success!

Guest: Thank you :DDD

Guest: Thanks!

Guest: Holy shit, you guessed who her family was O_o o_O? You are one sharp cookie. I'm going to assume you're the same one who reviewed the next couple of chapters, and yeah you're right. Valeria shouldn't depend on Dobby since he _is _the Malfoy's house-elf, but only when it conflicts with his masters' interests, I think.

Guest: Got it at Vinnie, eh? We have another sharp cookie over here.

Lilith: Thank you :). Although, it is concerning that you thought I dropped it. I hadn't, it just took me... 5 or 6 months to finish this chapter? Yikes. This one gave me trouble, so hopefully the rest won't take as long.


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